


Well, This is Awkward

by thesherlockianwhjustcant



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Awkward Flirting, Awkwardness, Deaton gets punched, Emotionally Repressed, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, More tags to be added, Multi, Nemeton, Pining, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Slight Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Soulmarks, Soulmates, Stiles is Legal, Wolfsbane, allison is alive, allison is kinda annoying, possibly magic stiles, pretty much everything from 1-3A happened, there will be smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-01-29 05:45:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 60,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12624516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesherlockianwhjustcant/pseuds/thesherlockianwhjustcant
Summary: Stiles stood there, stunned. The other two men in the room, Chris and Peter, stood there, stunned. Stiles’ throat seemed to be closing up, but he forced it open. Breathe, breathe, he told himself. He held up his wrist and watched as the two phrases on his arm slowly faded away. His mouth fell open even wider. He refocused on Chris and Peter, who were also staring at their wrists, watching their phrases disappear. Each man’s eyes were wide, even Peter’s, who wasn’t normally one to be surprised.Well, this was going to be awkward.****Stetopher soulmate AU in which Stiles, Peter, and Chris only find out they're soulmates when they're alone in a room together for the first time...





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles put his books in his locker, ignoring the phrases on his arm as he did. Unlike most people, Stiles’ soulmark was made up of two phrases, instead of the usual one. They ran together as one, but they weren’t the same. He didn’t know what it meant, but it was really starting to get to him, especially now that Scott had found his soulmate, and Lydia had found hers, and Isaac and Derek and Cora and Jackson and... fuckin' everyone. He used to think he wouldn’t care, but he didn’t realize that he would be the last one of his friends to find his soulmate, and he certainly didn’t think that they were all going to find them in _high-school._ His parents hadn’t met until college! Scott’s mom _still_ hadn’t found her soulmate. It was crazy to think that Stiles was stuck in the friend group that all found their soulmates at the same time. Maybe that’s what made them such a good pack. But Stiles was ready now. He was ready to just meet his soulmate and get it over with. He really didn’t care if it was a platonic soulmate, like Jackson and Danny, or if it was a romantic one like Scott and Allison. He just wanted to find him or her so that he could say that he had.

Sighing, Stiles closed his locker and headed to the cafeteria for lunch. After getting some food, he slid into the seat next to Scott, who pulled his attention away from Allison long enough to say, “Hey, Stiles.”

Stiles gave him a small smile and said hey back, but after that, their table became kind of quiet. For whatever reason, whenever Stiles showed up when they were all already with their soulmates, it just made things awkward until Lydia showed up, whose soulmate, thankfully, did not go to high school. Unfortunately, she was sick today, so there was no escape from the awkwardness. Stiles tried to just ignore it and dig into his lunch, and slowly, conversation resumed at their table.

He usually tuned in and out of their conversations because they usually involved soulmate crap, so when he noticed it got quiet again out of the blue, he looked up and found everyone looking at him. He frowned and touched his face. “What? Is there something on my face?”

Scott laughed beside him. “No, I asked if you were doing anything tonight.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Uh, no, I don’t think so, why?”

Scott shifted in his seat. “Well, I was wondering if you could go to Derek’s loft tonight?”

“Oh, Derek’s back in town? Thought he was in Brazil or something.”

“No, he’s still gone.”

“Then, why would I--oh, no, no, no. I’m not going to go meet Peter!”

“You’re the only one he tolerates,” Isaac pointed out.

“Yeah, but you’re all, you know, werewolves. I’m just a human!”

“So am I,” said Allison.

“You’re a hunter, you don’t count!”

“You’ll be fine, Stiles,” Scott said.

“Oh, sure, let’s just trust this crazy, psychopathic werewolf who probably still wants to kill all of us. Yeah, that sounds like a _great_ idea, Scott.”

“I’m not saying we should trust him. I’m just--look, he said he had some information that may be of value to us as a pack, and he said that--” Scott broke off and looked away.

“What? What did he say?”

Scott sighed. “He said that if I come to get it from him to bring “the smart one” so that I “would understand it all.” I’m busy tonight, late shift at the vet hospital, but he can only do tonight, so...”

Stiles sighed. “Ugh, fine. I’ll do it, but if he attacks me, and I die, it’s on you.”

“I can get my dad to go if it makes you feel better,” Allison offered.

Stiles nodded. “Yeah, that’d be a good idea.” The bell rang, then, and they all got up to head to their next class, but Stiles was wondering, _what’s the point if I’m just gonna die in eight hours anyway?_

*****

Stiles parked in front of Derek’s loft and cut his engine. He was supposed to wait for Chris to get here to go inside, but he wasn’t sure how Peter would feel about Chris being here in the first place, so he had decided on the drive over that he would just go up when he got here and take his chances. He took a deep breath and got out of the Jeep.

He’d never liked Derek’s loft at night. It was too creepy, perfect for a brooding werewolf, but insanely creepy for a teenage boy. Stiles cautiously made his way up to the loft, and he knocked on the door. He waited for Peter to answer, but the door didn’t open. So, Stiles tried his luck and pulled the door open himself. Okay, this was creepy. This didn’t feel right.

“Hello?” He called out, the sound echoing off the walls of Derek’s nearly empty loft. Stiles took a few steps into the apartment. “Peter?” The floor creaked behind him right before someone touched his shoulder. Stiles jerked his head to the right and said, “Shit, where did you come from?” Chris just frowned.

“I’m right here, idiot,” Peter said from somewhere in the near darkness.

“You’re not an idiot, Stiles,” Chris said. _Holy shit, wait..._

“I meant it nicely,” Peter retorted.

“Don’t call him an...” Chris trailed off, paused before saying, “idiot...” Chris trailed off again and looked down at his wrist.

Stiles stood there, stunned. He’d just heard the two phrases on his wrist... spoken by different people. Two people. He had... no, it wasn’t possible. He looked down at his wrist and watched as the phrases slowly faded away. His mouth fell open even wider; his throat closed up, but he forced it back open. He refocused on Chris and Peter, who were also staring at their arms in bewilderment, even Peter who wasn’t easily surprised. Stiles looked back down at his arm and saw that his phrases were almost completely gone. He looked back up frantically, then back down. This wasn’t possible. People didn’t have two soulmates. That wasn’t how this worked. Plus, he’d met them both _multiple_ times! He’d known them both for almost three years now. There was no way this was possible.

Peter was the first to speak. “Well, this certainly isn’t how I saw the night going.”

Stiles huffed out a nervous laugh. “How are you so calm?”

Peter frowned and narrowed his eyes at him. “Why are you freaking out?”

“Because I just found out I have two soulmates somehow, and on top of that, they’re both old enough to be my dad!”

“ _Uncle_ ,” Peter corrected. “I’m more like an _uncle’s_ age.” Stiles rolled his eyes and looked over at Chris.

Chris frowned deeply, obviously lost in thought. “Um, Chris?” Stiles said quietly. Chris looked up immediately, still frowning.

He sighed heavily. “This is impossible,” he said.

“I really don’t know why you two find it so hard to believe all this, nor do I understand why either of you care so much.” Stiles rolled his eyes again and glared at Peter, who shrugged and shook his head. “Really, I mean, now we know who our soulmates are, and we don’t have to worry about it anymore. We hated each other before--”

“I don’t hate Chris, just you,” Stiles cut in.

Peter gave him an eyeroll of his own. “We hated each other before, I don’t see why this whole thing has to change any of that.”

Stiles shook his head and tried to come up with a reason why that was the most ridiculous idea he’d ever heard. Emphasis on _tried_ . Stiles kept coming up blank. Isn’t this exactly what he’d been thinking earlier? That he just wanted to know who his soulmate (or soulmate _s_ ) was so that he could move on?

“Peter’s right,” Chris said.

“What? You’re taking his side?” Stiles exclaimed.

“There are no sides here, Stiles. This is just... the rational thing to do.” Stiles’ mouth was going dry from gaping at everything that’d happened in the past few minutes. “Think about it this way, what would your dad do if you went home and told him you met your soulmates and that they were us? What would Scott do?”

“I don’t know!” Stiles looked between the two of them, who both now seemed to be out of shock and latching onto this new idea that Stiles _still_ couldn’t find a valid reason to veto. “So what? You guys are suggesting we just go on like nothing happened? Just lie to the pack.”

“Well, _lying_ is a harsh word. More like omitting the truth.” Stiles wanted nothing more than to strangle Peter in that moment.

“Which is lying!”

“Stiles, listen.” Stiles refocused on Chris. “Even if we didn’t already have a rocky relationship among the three of us, it would be a good idea to keep this on the down low for now. We all have _two_ soulmates. That’s, as far as I know, completely unheard of. I don’t want any extra attention drawn to myself, and I’m sure you two feel the same way. So, until we figure this out a little more, we should just, as you suggested, go on like nothing has happened.”

Stiles’ mind was still reeling, trying to find another solution, but they were both right. As much as he hated to admit that, they were. “Fine. Fine, whatever. Okay.” Stiles was ready to leave. He started heading to the door, forgetting why he’d come here in the first place, when Peter called after him.

“Stiles? Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“I’ll come by tomorrow to get whatever it was you were going to give me tonight. I need a minute.” Stiles left the loft calmly, but as soon as he made it to the stairs, he ran to his Jeep. He slammed the car door and sped off, driving wherever, not caring where he ended up, just needing to think.

*****

Stiles somehow made it into school the following morning, despite not sleeping the previous night. He’d stayed up all night, driving, thinking, and researching. He hadn’t pulled an all-nighter in ages, and he was starting to remember why.

“How’d it go last night?” Scott asked as Stiles grabbed some books from his locker. He needed to stay calm, keep his heart rate level so that Scott wouldn’t pick up on anything.

“Um, fine. It was fine.”

“So, what did Peter want? What was this information he had for us?”

Stiles mentally kicked himself. “Uh, well, he didn’t actually have it, so he’s gonna give it to me tonight instead.” He tried to ignore the double entendre, but that turned out to be easier said than done.

“Oh, that’s weird. Peter was really insistent on last night.” Stiles shrugged as he closed his locker and headed off to first period. The faster this conversation was over, the better. Sadly, Scott fell into step with him. “Allison said her dad was acting really weird when he got back last night. Did something happen?”

“What? No, no, nothing happened.” Scott frowned. “I mean, not that I know of. I left before him, so I guess he and Peter could have done something that would have made him act weird, but I don’t know since I wasn’t there.” Stiles managed to shut himself up before his rambling gave him away.

“I guess so.”

It was quiet for a few moments as they walked to class, until Stiles thought of something. “Hey, can I ask you a random question?” Scott nodded. “Was Allison’s mom Chris’s soulmate? They _were_ actually married, right?”

Scott nodded. “Yeah, they were married, but they were like my parents. They weren’t each other’s soulmates. I think her mom actually had a platonic soulmate, but I don’t know for sure. Why do you ask?”

“Huh? Oh, no reason.” Scott narrowed his eyes at him, but Stiles looked away and sped up toward their class. He needed this conversation to end, and he needed it to end _now_.

Thankfully, by the time they slid into their desks in Coach’s class, Scott had moved on to talking about the upcoming Lacrosse game and how he needed to plan for it because it was near a full moon or whatever. Truthfully, Stiles had kinda tuned him out. Who could blame him? He’d gotten zero sleep; he just found out he had two soulmates; he had a whole bunch of research to go through. And on top of all of that, he still had pack shit to think and worry about. So. Yeah. Excuse him for not paying attention to Scott’s rambling and--

“Stilinski, you awake back there?” Coach’s loud yell jolted Stiles out of his stupor.

“Uh, yeah, yeah. I’m good.”

“Well, you’re all right, Stiles. Don’t go bragging. Okay, back to...” Stiles tuned him right back out and focused on the open notebook in front of him. The ratty spiral notebook that laid in front of him was where he did all of his miscellaneous research, and he’d filled thirty pages of it with soulmate research last night. Now, he needed to read through it all and see if he could make sense of the fact that he had two soulmates.

He’d started his research last night with the basics of soulmates and soulmarks. He didn’t find much information that he didn’t already know, but he did read a few studies on platonic soulmates versus romantic soulmates. Stiles was hoping that he, Chris, and Peter were platonic soulmates because... well, he wasn’t entirely sure why. It wasn’t that he didn’t find them attractive--they most _certainly_ were, like god damn, Stiles had at least _thought_ about it before--but they were so much older than him that he just had a hard time feeling comfortable in his attraction to them. Unfortunately, the studies he read all found that platonic soulmates, with the exception of a few outliers, always met within the first ten years of their lives. Seeing as how Stiles was eighteen, and Chris and Peter were way older than that, the likelihood that they were platonic was very, very low.

After reading about the basics, Stiles got more specific and looked into unusual soulmate stories. He’d read a few news articles about people who were born with soulmarks but had their phrases disappear before ever meeting their soulmate, which apparently happens if your soulmate dies before you meet them. He’d also found countless articles about people with very generic soulmarks, like “hello” or “how are you,” and how those people had never been able to find their soulmates. He’d found an article or two about people who were asexual and/or aromantic and didn’t really want a soulmate, but once they met their soulmate, they were happy because they were compatible. He’d even found a few articles about people killing their soulmates. But, for the life of him, he could not find one single article, study, blog post, _anything_ about having more than one soulmate. Even in the cases where your soulmate dies before you have the chance to meet them, the living person never gets another soulmark, and they don’t have a soulmate.

It was all so frustrating to Stiles. He liked solving puzzles, figuring stuff out, finding the logical in the irrational, but this... There was no solution, there was nothing to tell him that this was normal, that others had gone through the same thing he was. He just had two soulmates. Why? He may never know. Does it matter why? His immediate answer is yes, but at the same time, no. Because he’s lucky in some regards. He could have been one of those people whose soulmate dies before ever meeting them; he could have it way worse than he does. But, he could totally have it better. He could have one, normal, cute, loving soulmate that he could cuddle with and share a life with.

Instead, he has a zombie, homicidal werewolf, and an emotionally-repressed supernatural hunter. And they have him. They waited their _entire_ lives, the _majority_ of their lives to meet their soulmates, and they got Stiles, a goofy, loud, some would say obnoxious teenager.

How in the hell would they ever be able to make that work?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, wow, wow. I was not expecting this kind of response! Thank you to all who left kudos and comments! I love getting feedback. 
> 
> I'm going to be alternating among Stiles', Peter's, and Chris' POVs, so this chapter is in Peter's. Hope y'all enjoy it!

Peter had given up finding his soulmate as soon as he’d found out his soulmark read, “Peter don’t call him an idiot.” The number of times he’s heard those words come out of people’s mouths… When he was young, he used to get excited when he heard his name or when someone chastised him for calling someone an idiot, but he quickly got over that. Especially once he realized he was surrounded by idiots and he’d be calling out  _ a lot _ of people on that fact and that most people tend to defend others when they’re called stupid. 

He’d never thought the phrase was actually two, though, and he’d never thought that it would be spoken by two different people. He’d  _ definitely _ never thought that he would be calling his soulmate an idiot. He’d always expected his soulmate to be smart, to be one of the few he  _ wouldn’t _ call an idiot. Now, Peter wasn’t oblivious; he knew Stiles was smart, and he knew he was one of the few people in this new “pack” of his that could keep up with him. And Chris, well. Chris was incredibly smart too, but he wasn’t like Peter and Stiles. At least, Peter didn’t consider him the same. Stiles may have “morals” and “integrity,” but Peter knew that deep down Stiles was just as devious as he and had the potential to be just as evil. But Chris just… wasn’t. He was one of the “good” guys. He hunted and killed werewolves, but he was a good guy. He had a code, one that had been amended, even, to be  _ nicer _ towards werewolves, so yeah, Chris=good guy. His pairing with Stiles and himself confused Peter. But the whole soulmate thing had always confused him anyway.

But, ultimately, none of that mattered. As he’d said last night, they hated each other before, and the fact that they were soulmates didn’t change that. It didn’t matter that Peter had secretly never hated Stiles and had admired and respected him instead. It didn’t matter that Peter had always found Chris attractive but could never explain why. Because none of it changed anything. 

All that mattered was that they needed to be allies right now. Peter still had ties to the outside supernatural world, and he’d just gotten word that a coven of witches was moving in on Beacon Hills. He didn’t know much, but he knew that Scott and the others needed to know. Usually, he wouldn’t care to share such information with them, but he’d read enough about these witches to know that he couldn’t handle them alone. As much as it pained him to admit that. And since he couldn’t get in touch with Derek because he was off galavanting with Braeden somewhere, Peter had no other choice but to turn to Scott even though the kid didn’t trust him one iota. The feeling was mutual.

These witches were too dangerous, though, for them to be divided on something as simple as trust issues, so Peter had to bite the bullet and inform Scott... and, making his teeth grind together,  _ ask _ for his  _ help _ . Peter shivered. He hated doing that. He hated  _ teaming _ up and  _ socializing _ . It was suffocating. He ended up surrounded by idiots with  _ morals _ and  _ integrity _ and all that bullshit. He didn’t need that. He was much better off working alone. But, as he’d realized, it was going to take a lot more firepower to take this coven down. 

In the last town they’d hit, suicide rates spiked, mental hospital populations in-fluxed, and hundreds of animals had been killed. If nothing else, these witches would bring attention to Beacon Hills and hunters along with it. Hunters that weren’t like Chris. Hunters that were less evolved and who wouldn’t hesitate to wipe them all out, including Chris and Stiles because while they were both human, Chris has turned on his own people and Stiles had been possessed. He would be seen as good as dead to them. They wouldn’t hesitate to kill either of them. 

So, the duty fell on Peter to relay this information to Scott. Unfortunately, Scott was as thick as they come, so he had to tell Scott through someone who would actually understand what was going on and why it was a threat. That left Stiles and Lydia, and Peter knew that Lydia wouldn’t be willing to work with him at any cost—with good reason, he knew—so it had to be Stiles. 

He was supposed to come by again tonight, at least that’s what he said last night. In the back of his mind, Peter wondered if he actually would show up or if he was still too freaked out by the whole soulmate thing to be alone with him. 

He supposed that if he was all right being alone with him when he thought Peter was just a murderer, Stiles would be all right being alone with him as soulmates. He’d just have to wait and see.

*****

Peter finally heard the familiar rumble of Stiles’ Jeep around eleven, and he was relieved he’d finally shown, but he heard three heartbeats and smelled a wolf. Peter rolled his eyes as he realized Stiles brought Scott and probably Allison with him. No matter how smart Stiles was, he always managed to surprise Peter with how much of an idiot he could be. 

He wondered if Stiles could keep it together enough for this whole  _ keep-it-on-the-DL _ plan to work out. Peter shook his head at Stiles even though he couldn’t see him. He liked to think that Stiles could  _ feel _ his head shake since they were soulmates. Of course, he knew that was impossible, but didn’t hurt to dream. 

A few moments later, there was a knock on Peter’s—or more accurately,  _ Derek’s _ —door, and he yelled, “Come in.”

Sure enough, Stiles brought Scott and Allison with him. Peter turned so that they wouldn’t see his dramatic eyeroll. Thankfully, Stiles’ heartbeat sounded steady and normal. 

“Thanks for finally showing up,” he said. “I started to think you wouldn’t show.”

Stiles’ heartbeat kicked up the subtlest inch, and Peter smiled the smallest of smirks. “You’re lucky we’re even giving you the time of day at all,” Scott said.

This time, Peter let them see his eyeroll. “No,  _ you’re _ lucky that I’m sharing this information with you. I could just as easily make myself scarce, and let you deal with this problem on your own.”

“Then why don’t you?” Allison snapped.

Again, eyeroll. “Because,  _ darling _ , you insightful teenagers aren’t even aware there  _ is _ a problem.” Allison narrowed her eyes at him. “And Beacon Hills is my territory… well, I guess  _ our _ territory, but mine just the same. I don’t want anyone terrorizing this town but me.” Out of the corner of his eye, Peter caught Stiles roll his eyes. 

“So are you gonna actually  _ tell _ us what’s going on, or are you going to just dangle it in front of us?” Stiles finally chimed in.

Peter gave him a smirk, which turned into a grin when he heard Stiles’ heartbeat pick up again. “Well, thank you for asking, Stiles. I’ll share this information with you, give you everything I know… on one condition.”

Scott and Allison both opened their mouths to argue, but Stiles, who didn’t even blink at this turn of events, beat them both to it, and said, “What do you want?”

“I want you to consult me. I’m not asking you to trust me because let’s face it, that will never happen. I’m asking you to take my advice in this matter. As far as I know, none of you have ever dealt with something like this, and it’s different than what you normally deal with. It’ll be easy to make mistakes. And the last thing I want is for some angsty teenagers like yourselves to make stupid, childish mistakes. All I ask is that we—” Peter breaks off for a moment, suppressing a shiver “—work together.” It pained him to say that.

Again, Scott and Allison opened their mouths to no doubt object, but Stiles unblinkingly answered Peter. “Okay.”

Scott and Allison rounded on him. “Okay?” They screamed at him. “He’s  _ Peter _ !” Scott claimed. Peter frowned at that argument, unsure of what exactly it was supposed to mean. 

“Yeah, well, weren’t you guys the ones who forced me to come meet him yesterday? Plus, he’s older than us, and he’s seen more shit than us. Ever consider that he might actually have some know-how that we don’t? Maybe if we had listened to him at other times, we wouldn’t have lost people like Erica and Boyd.” 

“Listening to him then wouldn’t have changed—” Scott began.

“We don’t  _ know _ what would have happened!” Stiles screamed. “Yeah, maybe they still would have died. Maybe we’d all be dead, who knows! But isn’t it possible that if we had listened to him, they  _ wouldn’t  _ have died?” Scott remained silent. “Let’s just hear him out, okay? And if he doesn’t seem to be giving good or honest advice, we won’t do what he says. But I, for one, think it’d be a good idea to take advice from a guy who says he knows what we’re dealing with.”

Peter looked Stiles up and down. He’d never thought that Stiles would  _ defend  _ him, and he definitely hadn’t considered that he’d take his side over Scott’s. He wondered if it was because they were soulmates, or if Stiles had thought about this for a while. Bringing up Erica and Boyd made Peter think it was the latter. Stiles wasn’t one to flip sides solely because a mark on his wrist told him to, that much was evident last night. 

Peter pushed those thoughts aside, though, and said, “So what’s the verdict, oh, fearless leader?”

Stiles rolled his eyes as he turned back to Peter. Peter smirked.  _ Good to see nothing’s changed _ . “Fine,” Scott said. “We’ll be allies.”

Peter nodded. “Good. Come over here,” he said, gesturing to the table. “I’ve laid out what I know so far, but it isn’t much. In short, there is a coven of witches moving in on Beacon Hills.”

“ _ Witches _ ?” Scott asked incredulously. 

“Yes, Scott, witches. But not the ones who fly around on broomsticks, and not the ones from _Harry Potter_ either. No, these people are just normal people who happen to have the gift of magic. Only, they’re not using their “gift” for good.” Scott, Stiles, and Allison had moved closer to where Peter was looking over the papers laid out on the table. Stiles circled the table, closer to Peter, so that he could read everything more easily. 

“Why are they coming to Beacon Hills?” Allison asked.

“The Nemeton?”

“The Nemeton.”

Peter and Stiles spoke at the same time, Peter sounding definitive and Stiles sounding unsure but confident. Peter couldn’t stop himself from smirking slightly.

“Yes, Stiles. The Nemeton, undoubtedly. They feel its power and are drawn to it. That’s why all these other supernatural creatures are drawn here too. I’m assuming it’s the same for them.”

“Could there be another reason?” Stiles asked.

Peter shrugged. “I guess they could just be in want of a new town to terrorize, but I think the Nemeton is the best bet. Whether they actually know about its power, or they’re just drawn here by some unknown reason to them, I don’t know. All I can say is that if they  _ do _ know about the Nemeton, there’s no doubt they’re going to cause a lot more trouble here than they did in all the other towns they’ve hit because they’ll know how to tap into the power.” A collective  _ hmm _ came from the three teenagers, followed by a weighty silence. 

Scott was the one to break it. “How do we know they’re coming here? Like, how do we know for sure?”

Peter straightened up a bit. “Well, we don’t. But look at the last three towns they’ve hit. All of them are on the way to Beacon Hills. Before that, the towns are all sporadic, all over the map. My guess is that they started feeling the Nemeton’s power a few towns ago and started making their way here. There really isn’t a town between the last one and Beacon Hills, so I’d say we’re their next stop.”

“So you’re just guessing?”

Peter sighed. “No, I’m drawing an informed conclusion. Could I be wrong? Yes. What if I’m right, though? Shouldn’t we prepare ourselves for their arrival?”

Scott exchanged a look with Allison, who shrugged, before he nodded as if deciding to take Peter on his word. “Okay, so what do we do to “prepare ourselves,” as you said?”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Well,  _ you’re  _ our fearless leader. I thought you’d have some grand plan to keep us all safe. Or is that what you brought your hunter for?”

Stiles choked on a laugh and coughed loudly for a few awkward moments. Because he thought it might make things a little more awkward for Stiles, Peter patted him on the back. He was right. Stiles’ heart rate kicked up a notch from the touch of Peter’s hand, and his face turned red. 

Peter smirked slightly and said, “Are you done?” after Stiles had regained some control over his breathing. He gave a thumbs up. Peter turned back to Scott and Allison who were regarding him with annoyance. He rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine. I say we talk to your father, Allison. He probably has some tricks up his sleeve about how to prepare for these kinds of things. Then, we should talk with the Sheriff’s station and get them on board with everything, so they all understand what’s going on and what to look for. Other than that, it’s kind of a waiting game.”

“A waiting game?” Allison asked, her voice laced with incredulity. “Is this a  _ game _ to you?”

Peter tilted his head back and forth. “More or less, yes. But that’s irrelevant.” She frowned at him. “We have to wait for them to make their presence known, otherwise we won’t know they’re here. For all we know, they  already _are_.”

“What would tip off them being here? What do we need to look out for?” Stiles asked.

“Well, in the last few towns, it all started somewhat subtly. They started small and worked their way up. If they do that here, maybe cattle mutilations, spike in missing persons. That sort of thing.”

“And if they start big? Tap into the Nemeton’s power right away, like you said, what then?”

“Well, then, we’d want to look out for something bigger.”

“Like what?” 

_ Apparently, I need to spell it out for them _ . “Murder spike, suicide spike, violence spike. We need to wait for people to die to know they’re here, and once that happens… it may be too late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't remember if I said this in the last chapter or not, but I'll be trying to update this fic about once a month, maybe more if I have the time! Thanks for reading!!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter! Woo!! Thanks for reading!

Chris was just about to go to bed when he got a call from Allison around 11:30. He answered immediately. “Allison? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, Dad, everything's fine,” she answered in a reassuring tone. “But we need you to come over to Derek's. Peter has some info on supernatural people moving in on Beacon Hills. We need a more seasoned hunter.”

Chris resisted the sigh that so desperately wanted to be released. The last thing he wanted was to be in a room with Peter. “Can it wait until morning? I was just about to go to bed.”

“No, this seems pretty serious, Dad.”

“Why did you and Scott go meet him so late anyway?”

“Well, Stiles wanted to go earlier, but Scott wanted to go too, and he didn't get off work until late.”

Great. Stiles was there too. Just what he needed right now. “I'll be there in twenty minutes.”

“See you soon,” she said before hanging up.

Chris released his pent up sigh as he pulled his phone away from his ear. He didn't bother changing into more “presentable” clothes and chose just to go in his sweats and T-shirt. Grabbing his keys off the hook next to the door, he left to go meet with his daughter and his soulmates.

_It's gonna be a long night._

*****

Chris pulled up to Derek's loft, and cut his engine. He waited a few moments before getting out of his car and heading upstairs, trying to gather as much of his resolve as he could.

Once he felt he was ready, he walked up to the loft and found the door slightly ajar, voices floating out into the hall. He slid the door open wider so that he could slip through, but the four other people in the loft were so deep in conversation that they didn't notice Chris’ entrance. As Chris walked farther into the loft, he noticed his stomach begin to twist with nerves, though he didn't know why.

Unsurprisingly, Peter was the first to notice Chris’ presence, and he not-so-subtly ran his eyes up and down Chris’ unkempt form. Chris felt a distant hunger behind Peter's gaze, one that wasn't completely unfamiliar to Chris, but when Stiles looked up and did the exact same thing as Peter, Chris’ stomach twisted again. He'd never noticed Stiles’ hungry gaze, but the way Stiles raked his eyes over him told him it wasn't the first time _Stiles_ had noticed _him_.

Disconcerted by their attention, Chris cleared his throat, causing Allison and Scott to stop talking and turn around. They both greeted him with a smile and a “Hi.”

He nodded and said, “So what do we have?”

“Witches,” Allison replied.

“Witches?” Chris asked, having a hard time believing what he was hearing.

“Don’t tell me in all your years you’ve never run up against witches,” Peter said, a note of disbelief lacing his tone.

“I’m not saying that,” Chris said. “It’s just been such a long time. They were big in the nineties. I was just a kid then, helping my dad and my uncles mostly, but I remember going up against a few powerful covens.”

“Well, we’ve got one moving in on Beacon Hills. Here, take a look,” Peter gestured for Chris to come to his side of the table. Chris joined him and Stiles opposite Allison and Scott, soulmates across from soulmates. Chris’ stomach gave another twist. “You see? They were sporadic before, but now, it looks like they’re moving in a line towards us. If they continue on this path, they’ll hit us next.”

Chris focused on the map in front of him and nodded. “Looks like it. You thinking they’re coming here for the Nemeton?”

Peter nodded, but Stiles answered. “Yeah, we’ve been talking about that. Nemeton seems to be the best bet on what’s drawing them here, but we don’t know if they actually know about its power or not.”

“Do we know anything about the coven members? Who they are, what they look like, anything?”

Peter shook his head regretfully. “I don’t even know how big they are.”

Chris sighed, looking over some of the other documents laid out on the table. He picked one up and read over it. It was a summary of all the havoc the coven had wreaked on the last town. “This has to be at least six witches,” he said after a moment.

“ _Six_?” Scott asked, surprised.

“At least,” Chris stated flatly. “All this would take massive amounts of spellwork, advanced spellwork at that, which takes up a lot of energy. Since they’re able to wreak this much havoc in such a short amount of time, there has to be enough of them to split up the energy among them. I’m saying at least six witches if they’re all advanced, but if there are more amateurs than advanced, then it’s more likely we’re looking at eight, maybe ten witches in total.”

“Shit,” Peter muttered.

“Hadn’t thought that far, huh?” Chris asked haughtily.

“Watch yourself, Argent, or I just may have to smack you,” Peter countered.

Stiles elbowed Peter and said, “Hey, be nice.”

Peter rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything else. Scott cleared his throat, reminding Chris that he wasn’t alone with his two soulmates. From the looks on Peter’s and Stiles’ faces, they’d forgotten that detail as well. Chris looked over Allison and Scott subtly, and they, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice their little moment.

Chris shook himself out of it and continued on in their discussion. “So what’s the plan for dealing with them?”

“Well, we were hoping you’d have some ideas for preventative measures that we may be able to share with Stiles’ dad,” Allison said. “Right now, all we know is what to look for once they’re already here, but is there anything we can do _before_ they get here?”

Chris mulled over that question for a few moments before answering. It really had been a long time since he’d dealt with supernatural stuff that wasn’t werewolves, so he had to wrack his brain for any possible answers. “We could try to set up roadblocks for the next few weeks, inspect every vehicle coming into town. Maybe just let Beacon Hills residents through, anyone else we stop and check.”

“I don’t know if my dad will go for that. It’s a good idea, but it’s costly, and it’d be hard to explain without the supernatural excuse.”

Chris nodded. “I thought you’d say that… Really, the best thing we can do is sit down and talk with the sheriff and any deputies that are in the know about this threat. And as soon as they get wind of cases that sound like witches, they tell us, and we start working them.”

Allison and Scott seemed disappointed with this answer. “Is there really nothing we can do to get ahead of them?” Scott asked.

“I’m afraid not. I mean, we really don’t even know for sure that they’re coming here at all. We just have to wait.”

There was a collective sigh from Allison and Scott’s side of the table. Then, Allison nodded. “Maybe you and Peter could go talk to the sheriff tomorrow while we’re at school and give him the low-down on everything, then?”

“Uh, tomorrow? I think—” Peter cut him off.

“Yeah, we can do that.” Chris ground his teeth together but otherwise didn’t let his annoyance show.

“Great. Peter, do you mind if I take a few of these folders? I want to look over them a little more, maybe show some to Lydia.”

“Take whatever you need,” Peter said graciously.

“Thanks,” Allison said as she began collecting folders from the table.

It seemed like this little meeting was coming to an end, but Chris wanted to stay ~~to talk~~ to yell at Peter. He just hoped Allison wasn’t planning on riding back with him.

“Hey, Dad, you mind if I stay over at Scott’s?” She asked, much to his relief.

“Go right ahead,” he said.

After a few more moments, she, Scott, and Stiles were ready to leave. They started heading out, and none of them seemed to notice that Chris was staying behind. That was until Stiles reached the door, following Scott and Allison. As the two soulmates left the loft, Stiles turned back and gave a wary glance to Peter and Chris before disappearing after his friends.

Chris waited until he heard the Jeep’s engine start and the car drive away before he launched into his tirade.

Unfortunately, Peter got the first word in, thwarting Chris’ efforts to start an argument. “Don’t go getting all pissy. We said it last night—nothing changes among the three of us. If you’d made up some lousy excuse not to go with me, as you were about to do, it would have looked suspicious. I did you a favor, don’t yell at me for it.”

Peter’s words only made Chris angrier. “A favor? Really? Spending more time with you is the last thing I need right now.”

Peter looked at him, mock hurt lining his features. “Oh, how you wound me, Chris.”

 _Chris,_ the word sounded out of place on Peter’s tongue, yet it sounded perfect at the same time. It threw him off momentarily. “You know what I mean,” Chris retorted weakly.

“I’m afraid I don’t, Chris,” there it was again. “We’ve spent plenty of time together before, done many things similar to talking to the sheriff together before, why is now any different? What, because a few phrases on our wrists said that we’re soulmates? How does that change anything?”

Chris lost it at Peter’s indifferent tone. He’d somehow kept it together yesterday—if for nothing other than Stiles’ sake—but he couldn’t do it today. “It changes _everything_ , Peter! You’re a werewolf, I’m a hunter, and Stiles is—” he paused for a moment, his stomach twisting again “—is a _kid_ ! How the hell are we ever supposed to make that work? How are we supposed to go on like nothing has changed when _everything_ has? You and I thought we were natural-born enemies, and that’s how we’ve lived our lives up to now. But we’re not enemies, we’re soulmates, and if you don’t think that changes anything, you’re delusional.”

Chris paused to take a breath, and Peter regarded him with those same indifferent eyes. “Chris, listen to me,” Peter said in a level voice. “You, Stiles, and I may be soulmates, but if you think that’ll change how I feel about either of you at the drop of a hat, _you’re_ the delusional one. Your family wiped mine out— _nearly_ , anyway, and Stiles _burned_ me alive. I’m not going to be falling in love with either of you any time soon.” Chris clenched his jaw. “And I bet you feel the same.” Chris opened his mouth to say something, but Peter continued. “Tomorrow isn’t about us. It isn’t about your conflicted feelings towards me. It’s about trying to protect our home. If that’s not something you care about anymore, you don’t have to come with me. I’ll go on my own.” Chris remained silent because he couldn’t think of anything to say to that. Peter had just admitted he _cared_ about his town, about protecting it, and it threw Chris for a loop. “If you don’t have anything else to say, please leave. I’d like to go to bed before one AM tonight.”

Chris shook his head and stormed off. He felt like an idiot. He was so confused by all that had happened in the past couple of days, and just when he thought he could release some of his pent up confusion and frustration, he was denied it. Peter had to get the first word in and the last word out. Always. He _always_ had to do that. God, how the _hell_ were they soulmates? He really didn’t get it. He and Peter were polar opposites. Peter was evil, and Chris was good. Chris was human, and Peter was not. Could they get any more dissimilar?

And then there was Stiles. He and Stiles were pretty different, too, but that wasn’t what bothered Chris. No, what bothered Chris was that Stiles was his _daughter’s_ age. He was eighteen. Chris was forty-five. He couldn’t make sense of how he was mated with a person— _two_ people that weren’t even born yet when he got his mark. How was that possible?

Chris sighed as he reached his car and got in. He didn’t want to go with Peter tomorrow. He didn’t want to spend more time with him. But. Peter was right. They needed to work together, and they needed to protect Beacon Hills, so he had to bite the bullet and do what needed to be done.

Chris mulled over everything on the drive home, letting all of it eat away at his brain, piece by piece by piece. When he finally got back to his apartment, he went upstairs and went straight to bed. Before he got too settled, though, he sent Peter a text.

_I’ll pick you up at 9 tomorrow morning._

With that, he switched his phone off and went to sleep, tossing and turning the whole night with dreams filled with troubling soulmates.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so here's the fourth chapter! Woo!! I'm about to head into finals week soon, so I probably won't be posting again until mid-December. I'm excited for this fic, though, so I hope y'all stick with it and continue to enjoy it!
> 
> As always, thanks to all who leave kudos and comments! They really brighten my day! :)

Stiles hadn’t liked the look on Chris’ face when he left the loft last night. He looked as if he was waiting for everyone to leave so that he could murder Peter. Peter hadn’t even been that bad last night. Stiles didn’t understand why Chris had been so angry with him, but he knew he had been. He wished he had either of their numbers so that he could make sure that one of his soulmates wasn’t going to spend the rest of his life in prison. But for some unknown reason, he didn’t have their numbers. 

That fact bothered him more than it should have. He shouldn’t want to text them and call them, but for some reason he did. Not even in a romantic way or anything, but not having their numbers really sat with him. Especially after he saw that look on Chris’ face last night. 

Stiles sighed and shook his head as he finished getting dressed. He put on a short-sleeved shirt without thinking, but he realized his mistake as he bent down to tie his shoes. His clean wrist, free of his soulmarks was very noticeable. He couldn’t just wear this shirt, he had to wear something over it to hide his wrists. He settled on a random plaid and was sliding it on as his dad stopped by his room on the way downstairs. 

“So Peter and Allison’s dad are coming to meet with me today?” He asked as Stiles grabbed his backpack and started filling it with miscellaneous school materials. He really wished his dad would stop calling Chris “Allison’s dad.” It made him uncomfortable.

“Uh, yeah, I believe so. They’ll give you the run-down on everything we talked about last night.” Stiles zipped up his bag and started leaving. His dad took the hint and continued on his way downstairs. 

“Why couldn’t you just tell me?” His dad asked, a note of confusion lacing his tone.

Stiles had forgotten how much his dad didn’t like Chris and Peter. It made sense why he didn’t like Peter, but Stiles never understood why he wasn’t more fond of Chris. “Because I’m not an expert.”

Stiles’ dad sighed as he filled up a to-go coffee mug. “Well, you could tell me some of it, just so that I’m not completely blind going in.”

“Okay,” Stiles said slowly. “Um, so… Peter got some info on this group of people moving into town…”

“People? That doesn’t sound like something up you guys’ alley?”

“Yeah, well, they’re not just people. They’re witches, so.”

His dad choked on his coffee. After clearing his throat, he said, “ _ Witches _ ?” Stiles nodded. “Nothing about this world will ever cease to surprise me. There are werewolves, why not witches.”

Stiles snorted. Checking the time, he said, “We better head out, or we’ll both be late.”

His dad nodded and followed him out the front door, locking it behind him.

As they went to their separate cars, Stiles felt the need to say something else to his dad. “Hey, Dad?” He called to get his attention. The sheriff turned and looked at his son curiously. “Try to hear them out, okay? I know you don’t like either of them too much, but—” His dad held up a hand as a way of telling him to stop talking.

“I believe you. That’s enough for me to take them seriously. I’ll be professional, Stiles, don’t worry.” Stiles nodded. “Have a good day at school, and I’ll see you later.”

Stiles smiled and said, “See ya,” as they both got in their cars and drove off to their respective destinations.

*****

By lunchtime, Stiles was ready to get out of school. He was restless and antsy, so much so that he wondered if he’d remembered to take his medicine this morning. But he had a memory of taking the two little white pills right after he got up, as he always did, and he couldn’t figure out why he had such a hard time focusing. He couldn’t go more than a few minutes before zoning out and thinking about other things. Other  _ people _ , more accurately.

He walked up to his usual table, and yet again, everyone was already with his or her soulmate. Stiles rolled his eyes as he sat down, his presence unnoticed. It wasn’t until Lydia showed up that he spoke. 

“I can’t believe Jordan sometimes,” she said, sliding into the seat across from Stiles. He knew she was talking to him. Most days, she didn’t bother trying to penetrate the soulmate walls around their other friends. 

Stiles frowned and asked, “What? I thought you guys were doing well.”

Lydia rolled her eyes as she picked at her lunch. “We are. He’s just… Sometimes he forgets how old I am.”

Stiles’ frown deepened. He had somehow forgotten that Parrish and Lydia had quite the age difference between them. A mere twelve years compared to his 27, but significant all the same. “How is that possible?”

She laughed cynically. “Hell if I know. Like last night, he asked if I wanted to meet him at a bar with some of his friends after he got off work. I mean, I totally would have gone and used a fake to get in, but he’s a deputy for crying out loud. I can’t pull that shit with him.” 

Stiles snorted. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

Lydia shook her head. “It’s not like I’ve never drank around him, but never in public because come on. I just can’t believe him sometimes,” she repeated. 

Stiles laughed a little. He was suddenly curious about something he’d never thought to ask Lydia before, but he had to ask her before he lost his courage. “Can I ask you something?” 

She looked up at him, probably for the first time since she’d sat down, and met his eyes. She raised an eyebrow. “Sure.”

“When you found out Parrish was your soulmate, how’d you react?”

She frowned. “What do you mean? I reacted how everyone reacted. I was excited and scared all at the same time.”  _ Was  _ that _ the normal reaction? He wouldn’t know… _

“No, I mean, how’d you react to  _ him _ ?”

“I don’t know what you mean by that.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I’m not being very clear, am I?” She shook her head. “I guess I’m asking if you had apprehensions about him when you found out. Like, about his age and stuff?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, well… I don’t know if I really thought about it immediately. Yeah, I don’t think I even noticed it that much until my parents got upset about it.”

“Really?” He asked incredulously. “How did you not freak out?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. He’s not old enough to be my dad, so it’s never bothered me.” Her comment hit a little too close to home for him to respond right away, so after a moment or two of awkward silence, she asked, “Why do you ask?”

He tried to shrug nonchalantly, but he wasn’t sure how well he pulled it off. “Just curious,” he said. She eyed him and nodded slowly.

He saw her eyes move to his left wrist, where his soulmarks used to reside. He knew his plaid was covering his wrist, so he shouldn’t have been nervous under her scrutiny, but he was. She moved her eyes back to his and narrowed them. “How’s your search going?” She asked, “search” meaning the search for his soulmate. Her tone said that this was just a normal conversation, but her eyes said she meant business.

Again, he tried to shrug nonchalantly. “Same old same old,” he said.

She nodded again and stood up abruptly. He frowned as he watched her pick up her tray of half-eaten food, throw it away, and leave the cafeteria. He was beyond confused and curious, so he followed her. He turned left as he exited the lunchroom and went down the deserted hallway. As he passed by an open door, he was yanked inside surprisingly, making him yelp. 

Before he could react, Lydia gripped his left shirt sleeve and pulled it up, exposing his bare wrist. She gasped before hitting him on the arm. 

“Ow! What was that for?”

“For not telling me you’d met your soulmate!” 

He rubbed the spot on his arm that she’d hit and remained quiet. He needed to continue on with his and Peter and Chris’ agreement of keeping their soulmate-ship on the down-low. 

“Who is it?” She asked excitedly.

He shook his head and sighed. “I… look, it’s…” He sighed at his lack of ability to speak. “We don’t want to be in the spotlight right now, so we’re trying to keep it on the down low. I can’t tell you who they are because if I do, I’ll be breaking a promise, and I can’t do that because I’m too fucking honorable, and I’m just—what? Why are you staring at me like that?” Stiles paused in the middle of his ramble and looked at Lydia who was giving him a wide-eyed shocked look.

“You said you couldn't tell me who  _ they _ are.”  _ Shit shit shit _ . 

“I misspoke, it doesn’t mean anything, I—” 

“Oh, it means something. Now, spill. You don’t have to give me details, but I want to know.”

Stiles sighed.  _ I just had to fuck up, didn’t I? _ “Remember how my soulmark had two phrases?” Lydia nodded, the curiosity on her face piquing. He took a deep breath before saying, “That’s because I had two soulmarks. I have two soulmates.”

Lydia’s mouth literally dropped. She stood there, stunned, her eyes wide, her painted lips in a perfect O. Stiles waited breathlessly for her to react, to say something. The seconds dragged by. “Oh. My. God.” She said finally. “That’s—”

“Impossible? Yeah, that’s what I thought, but all of our soulmarks disappeared, so.”

Lydia regained some of her composure. “How did that even work? Did you all have the same phrases or… ?”

“We each had phrases from our first conversation as a trio.”

“Wow,” Lydia whispered. “Well, good for you, Stiles. Does Scott know?”

Panic welled up in his throat at the thought of Scott finding out. He shook his head quickly. No one else could know. “You can’t say anything. Please, Lydia, don’t say anything. Not to him, not to my dad, and certainly not to Parrish. Please, please, please don’t say anything.”

Lydia seemed taken aback by his pleading, but her expression softened as she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Hey, hey, your secret’s safe with me, okay?” She sought out Stiles’ eyes, and when their eyes met, relief washed over him. He knew she had his back. He nodded and released a pent up breath. “Can I ask what’s with all the secrecy, though?”

“They’re both older than I am,” Stiles said, not wanting to go too much into it. 

“Well, that happens all the time, it’s no big deal. I mean, look at me and Jordan.”

He tried to smile, but a cynical laugh came out instead. “Lydia, there are twelve years between you and Parrish. One of my soulmates has  _ twenty-seven _ years on me. Twenty-seven, Lydia! He’s old enough to be my dad. And the other one isn’t much younger. He’s maybe, fifteen, twenty years older than me. It’s fucked up, Lydia.”

Lydia’s eyes filled with pity, and Stiles looked away. He’d always hated pity. “But you  _ are _ soulmates. People will learn to accept that.”

_ It also has something to do with who they are exactly _ , he wanted to say, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t tell her who they were. “Look, can we just not talk about this?”

She smiled softly at him and nodded. “Okay, but I’m here if you need me.”

“Thanks,” he said as she pulled him into a surprise hug. The hug took him off-guard, but he relaxed into the comforting warmth quickly. He let Lydia hold him for a few long moments before he pulled away. “I really appreciate it.”

She smiled at him as the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. “You’d do the same for me,” she said simply and turned to leave the room.

Stiles was left in the empty classroom with that thought lingering in the air. She was right, of course. He’d definitely do the same for her. 

For Lydia? Always.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, so I finished finals, and I can get back to updating this thing!! I think y'all will really like this chapter ;)
> 
> As always thanks to everyone who's reading this, and thanks for the kudos and comments! They really make my day.
> 
> Happy reading!

Peter woke up in the morning with a slight headache, though he didn’t know why. The full moon was coming up in the next couple days, so he just attributed it to that. Chris was going to be at the loft soon, so Peter got up to take a shower and get dressed. As he showered, he let his mind wander. He’d had trouble getting to sleep last night, tossing and turning for a few hours before finally crashing around two or three. He didn’t really know why he had had such trouble falling asleep. He usually fell asleep quite easily. But last night, he couldn’t, and the reason why evaded him.

Well—that was a lie. He knew why he couldn’t fall asleep, he just didn’t want to admit it. He didn’t want to admit that Chris’ words had sat with him and that they ran through his mind over and over again, picking away at all the totally non existent insecurities Peter had.  _ Spending more time with you is the last thing I need _ . It was the last thing Peter needed too. He didn’t like Chris. He hated him and his family for what they did to his, and he didn’t want to spend any more time with him than he absolutely needed to. What he said to Chris last night was true. They couldn’t afford to let their animosity toward each other, or their newfound soulmate bond, cloud their judgement in this witch business. 

And yet, when Chris showed up last night, dressed down in loose-fitting sweats and a T-shirt, his hair a little disheveled, looking hot as hell, Peter couldn’t help but run his eyes up and down his body as a repressed attraction came to the surface. 

Peter met Chris almost fifteen years ago, right after he’d turned twenty. At the time that he met him, Peter hadn’t known Chris was a hunter, and Chris hadn’t known Peter was a werewolf. They were just two men who bumped into each other on the street. If Peter wasn’t mistaken the first words Chris had said to him were something along the lines of, “I’m sorry, didn’t see you there.” To which, Peter replied, “I’m sure I’ll come to forgive you in due time.” He’d thought Chris was a very handsome guy at the time, and honestly, he’d only gotten better with age, like a fine wine or cheese. 

Why weren’t those phrases on their wrists, though? Why hadn’t they known then that they were soulmates? 

The big deal about this soulmate thing was that you find your soulmate the  _ first _ time you meet them. You didn’t just meet them one day and develop a relationship and  _ then  _ find out you’re soulmates. That wasn’t how it worked. 

Peter sighed as he finally stepped out of the shower and dried off, pushing soulmate thoughts out of his mind. He got dressed and waited for Chris to arrive. It was ten till nine, so he’d be there soon. Peter decided to spend the extra time he had drinking some coffee, and a few minutes later, his phone dinged with a text message.

_ I’m outside _ , the message read. 

Peter collected a few of the files from the table to show to the sheriff before heading downstairs to Chris. When he slid into the passenger seat of Chris’ SUV, the sharp scent of Chris’ aftershave washed over him. Chris didn’t say anything to him, just waited for him to buckle his seat belt before driving off to the sheriff’s station. Normally, a silence like this would make Peter fill it for the sake of hearing his own voice. Normally, he’d try to get under Chris’ skin and get him worked up because what wasn’t fun about that?

But this morning, Peter let the silence remain in tact. Chris didn’t want to talk to him? Fine. He didn’t want to talk either. To fill the time to the station, Peter simply flipped through the files on his lap even though he was already familiar with them. 

*****

By the time, Chris and Peter reached the sheriff’s station, the tension between them was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. As soon as the car was parked, Peter unbuckled and got out of the car. He started walking towards the entrance to the station, not bothering to wait for Chris to follow. Of course, Christ caught up, and they walked into the station together. 

A woman with a friendly smile greeted them at the door. “Hello, how may I help you two gentlemen this morning?”

“We have a meeting with the sheriff,” Chris said, his voice sounding a bit harsher than Peter expected. 

The woman didn’t seem too fazed by Chris’ tone, though. The only indication of her annoyance was a slight up-kick in her heartbeat. “He’s not in yet, but he should be here in the next few minutes. Would you like to take a seat in the chairs outside his office?”

Peter beat Chris to answer her this time. “Yes, that would be great. Thank you,” he said, his voice dripping with suave politeness. 

She smiled at him and said, “Do you know the way?”

“Yes,” Peter nodded. “Thanks for your help.” She smiled and nodded as a way of saying  _ you’re welcome _ , and Peter steered Chris around the reception area and into the heart of the station. Once they were out of earshot of the receptionist, Peter whispered, “I never thought  _ I’d _ be the polite one in this relationship.”

Chris clenched his jaw and picked up his pace to the sheriff’s office. He sat down in one of the chairs outside, and Peter sat in the other one. He still wasn’t talking, and Peter couldn’t take it anymore.

“So you’re just going to ignore me for the rest of our lives, is that it?”

Chris cut him a glare, but still, he didn’t respond.

“Hey, I get it. If I were capable of sitting in complete silence all the time, I would.” Chris turned away from him, pointedly ignoring him now, but Peter knew he was still listening. “Sadly, I can’t seem to shut up sometimes.”

That earned him a cynical snort and a quiet, “You and Stiles both.”

“Well, we  _ are _ —” Peter began, but Chris cut him off.

“Don’t say it,” he said quietly but sternly.

“Why?” Peter asked, grinning slightly at the fact that he was working his way under Chris’ skin.

“Because we’re in the middle of a police station, where anyone could hear, and we agreed to keep it quiet.”

Chris had a point there, but Peter still wanted to annoy him, so he opened his mouth to continue on in his earlier sentence just as Deputy Parrish walked up to them with the sheriff in tow. 

“Morning, Chris. Peter,” Parrish said. The sheriff nodded to them as he walked around them to open his office. 

Peter and Chris stood and followed them into the office. The sheriff closed the door and locked it once everyone was inside. Peter rose an eyebrow at the lock, and Sheriff Stilinski said, “Don’t want anyone interrupting and overhearing something on accident.”

Peter nodded in understanding. “Good call,” he said as the sheriff took a seat at his desk and Parrish came to stand next to him. 

“So what’s going on? Stiles said something about witches, but he wouldn’t give me many more details.”

“Unfortunately, that’s the extent of the information we have,” Chris said. “We know there’s a coven of witches moving toward Beacon Hills, and we’re likely their next stop, but we don’t even know that for sure.”

Peter nodded along and added, “They’re probably drawn to the Nemeton and its power, but we’re unsure. Here are a few files that document what they did in previous towns,” he handed over the files. “Those should help give you an idea of what to look for.”

The sheriff nodded. “Okay, so what can we do? I mean, as the police?”

Chris shrugged. “There’s actually not a whole lot you can do. The most you can do is keep an eye out for odd cases and let us know as they come through.”

“You can also help us with trying to identify some of them. If they really are moving to Beacon Hills, you could run checks on people who have moved into town within the past few weeks and in the following month or so. The biggest part in all this is finding out who exactly these witches are.”

Parrish had been frowning as soon as the word  _ witches _ had been uttered. “Is there anything specific we should look out for when we run these checks?”

Chris looked at Peter as a way of telling him to answer, and Peter had to think about that for a moment.  _ Was  _ there anything they could really look for? “I don’t think it’d be that different than looking at possible suspects in any other case. Just look for anything suspicious. We can narrow it down once we have a list, but right now, we’ve got nothing.”

Parrish nodded, apparently satisfied with Peter’s answer. The sheriff nodded as well. “Okay, well, if that’s all we can do for now, we might as well get on that. Parrish and I are the only ones in the department that know about all this, so we’ll be the ones keeping you updated, but other deputies will still work the cases.” With that, the sheriff stood up and said, “If we learn anything, we’ll let you know. And if there’s anything else we can do, don’t hesitate.”

Peter and Chris stood and nodded. They each reached out and shook the sheriff’s hand, and Chris said, “Thank you, Sheriff. We’ll be in touch.”

After saying their goodbyes, Chris and Peter left the station. Peter trailed behind Chris, admiring the view as he did, and followed him to his car. As they each slid into their respective seats, Peter said, “That went well.”

Chris grunted his agreement, but otherwise it looked like they were back to sitting in silence. Peter sighed as his stomach grumbled. 

“How about some breakfast?” He asked. Chris just cast him a look before pulling out of his parking space and driving away. “Not hungry?” Again, no response. “Christopher, look, we can’t keep ignoring each other. We have to—”

“Which is it?” Chris asked angrily. “We need to ignore that we’re soulmates, or we need to acknowledge it? I can’t do both.”

“For the record, I never said we should ignore the fact that we’re soulmates.”

“That’s exactly what you said!”

“No, I said it was irrelevant. There’s a difference.”

“Oh, really? What’s the difference?”

Peter sighed. “Would you like me to define irrelevant and ignore for you? I’d be more than happy to pull out my pocket dictionary and give you a grammar lesson if that’s what you’d like.”

Chris gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, and Peter heard his heartbeat quicken. “You’re so frustrating,” he gritted out through clenched teeth.

“Oh, I know,” Peter said. “But aren’t we all?”

Chris just shook his head at that, but it seemed like he wasn’t going to respond.

“The fact that we’re soulmates is irrelevant because we still have work to do, and our being soulmates has nothing to do with that work. Ignoring this fact would mean we wouldn’t acknowledge it at all, which, since you and Stiles keep bringing it up, is not what we’re doing.”

“You brought it up earlier,” Chris claimed.

“Only to get under your skin. I haven’t brought it up otherwise.”

Chris let out a cynical breath of a laugh and shook his head. “I can’t believe we’re soulmates.”

Peter pushed down the anger that welled up in him from that statement. “Trust me, Argent. You’re not the only one.”

Chris cast him a quick, unreadable look before focusing back on the road and driving on in silence. 

Peter let the silence remain this time. This conversation had been fun earlier in the station and even when they’d gotten back in the car. Peter liked pushing people’s buttons, and he loved pushing Chris’. But, with just one sentence, Chris tore all the fun away from Peter. All the joy he received from rowling Chris up was gone after just five simple words. They were words Peter himself had thought, and they were words that Peter understood. Yet, they stung. For some reason, some unknown reason, hearing them come out of his soulmate’s mouth was different. It was one thing to think those words, but to say them. To actually hear them, they became real. 

Chris pulled up to Derek’s loft and stopped the car. Peter got out without saying anything and slammed the door. With a little too much force, apparently. The passenger side window shattered.  _ Well, shit _ , Peter thought just as Chris jumped out of the car and rounded it, coming at Peter. 

“What is your problem?” He yelled.

Peter remained collected. “You seem to be the one with the problem.”

Chris closed in on Peter and shoved him back. The move was unexpected, causing Peter to stumble back slightly. “You know, you act all collected and calm and disinterested, but I can tell you’re just as affected by this whole thing as Stiles and me.”

“I’m not.”

Chris crowded in on Peter, their faces mere inches apart. “Oh, really? What do you call that, then?” He asked, pointing to the shattered car window.

“The full moon is in two days—”

“Oh, and a seasoned werewolf such as yourself can’t control his strength by now? Is that it?”

Peter flashed his eyes and growled low. Chris didn’t even flinch. “Watch yourself, Argent.”

Chris took a tiny step closer. “Or what, Hale?”

Right then, Peter hated Chris. Hated that stupid look on his face, the one that said,  _ I’m better than you. You’re nothing special. You’re just like us. _ And right now, all he wanted to do was wipe that haughty look off his face. So he grabbed the fabric of Chris’ jacket in his hands and pulled Chris into a rough, messy kiss. 

It wasn’t passionate, it wasn’t beautiful, it wasn’t even  _ good _ . No, this was a revenge kiss, a kiss to shut Chris up, to show him who was in control and who wasn’t. Peter could feel Chris’ shock in his lips as he moved his own against them. Chris’ body had tensed up, become as rigid as a statue, making Peter smile into the kiss. After a few moments, Chris woke up from his shocked trance and pushed Peter away.

Peter stumbled slightly and looked up at Chris, breathing heavily. Chris’ face harbored too many emotions for Peter to read it fully. In his eyes, he saw panic on the surface and longing beneath it. His jaw and eyebrows said disgust. Chris took a few steps backward, shaking his head before he turned and hightailed it back to the driver’s seat. Peter was pretty sure he didn’t even put on his seat belt before he sped away. Peter, still breathing heavily, watched until Chris’ car could no longer be seen and then went up to the loft.

What had he just done?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so much motivation for this story, and I'm so glad I have time to update!! I think you guys will like this chapter a lot. 
> 
> Enjoy!!

Chris didn’t notice how fast he was driving until he was miles away from the loft. Peter clouded his mind, distracted him from focusing on anything but the burning of his lips. They’d… He’d… Peter… 

Chris shook his head and looked down at the speedometer. He immediately released the gas and slowed down to a reasonable speed. It wasn’t even eleven in the morning, and today had already gone to shit. What exactly had happened back there? Why had he egged Peter on like that? Why had Peter egged  _ him  _ on?  _ Because that’s what Peter does _ , he thought. 

He sighed as he pulled into his apartment complex. He needed to distract himself from all this, so he parked the car and went up to his apartment to throw himself into the case.

Chris rummaged around all his books to find everything he had on witches and started reading, ignoring the way his lips still tingled from where Peter’s had touched them earlier.

*****

Chris lost track of time. He lost himself in research on witches. He pulled out his old hunting journals, along with his father’s and uncle’s. They’d all worked on a few cases in the 90s, and there had to be something in their notes that could help them now. He was just finishing one of the journals when he heard the front door close. He glanced at the clock—11:57. He shook his head. He and Allison had made a deal a few years ago when she and Scott met. No late school nights. Now, he’d gotten a little more lenient about it lately, but for some reason, he was feeling extra parent-y tonight. He heard Allison walk down the hall and stop in the doorframe of his office. She stood there without saying anything. 

Hating being watched, Chris said, “Do you need something, or are you going to just stare at me?” He didn’t look up from his notes and picked up the next journal to read. 

Allison walked into the office and stood in front of his desk. He still didn’t look up. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

_ Did Stiles tell her? I should have known he wouldn’t be able to keep a secret. _ He looked up quickly, trying to hide the slight panic that came from the possibility his daughter knew about his soulmates. “What?”

She frowned. “You’ve been acting so weird since the other night. You want to tell me why?”

_ Oh, good, she doesn’t know. _ “I don’t know what you mean,” he said, looking back down at the papers in front of him. He started reading the new journal and instantly found a connection between its case and one from a journal he’d read earlier. He jotted it down on a post-it and stood up to put it on the board behind him. 

Allison came to stand beside him, looking at all the work he’d done today. “What is all this?”

Glad she moved on from his strange behavior, he dove into what he’d been doing all day. “I pulled out my old journals, and I had some of your grandfather’s and my uncle’s too, so I’m trying to find connections between the cases. This is all that I’ve found so far. It’s just easier laying it all out visually.” He turned back to his desk and sat down again, resuming his reading. 

Allison huffed out a small laugh. “Ha, this seems like something Stiles would do.”

Chris clenched his jaw at her innocent comment. She moved back in front of his desk.

“Dad, come on. Tell me what’s up.” When he didn’t say anything and continued to ignore her, she said, “Did something happen the other night? At Derek’s?”

He sighed and looked back up at her, trying to convey annoyance instead of deception. “What would give you that idea?”

“That’s not an answer.”

He looked back at his notes. “It’s getting late, Allison. You have school in the morning.”

“Right,” she said flatly and turned to leave the room.

“Next time you’re this late on a school night, there’ll be consequences. We had a deal. No late school nights.”

“Night, Dad,” she said, ignoring his parenting. She slammed the office door on her way out, making Chris jump. 

He put his pen down and sighed. He rubbed his eyes. All of this was going too far. It was affecting his family, for fuck’s sake. It wouldn’t be long until Allison figures it out. She was perceptive. Chris shook his head.

It wasn’t just affecting Allison, though. It was affecting him more than he’d care to admit. Finding out he’d had two soulmates, both much younger than him, both men… To say it was a shock would be an understatement. He’d grown up believing he’d never find his soulmate.  _ Shit where did you come from I meant it nicely  _ had never made sense to him, and he’d always thought it was too specific, too rare. People always talked about the general soulmarks like “hello” or a name and how they were the worst ones to have, but having a specific one is just as bad. In what possible situation would Chris be in, in which someone would say, “Shit where did you come from, I meant it nicely” to him? Apparently, it only worked if there were two people in the room.

Two men.

Two  _ young  _ men.

A teenager.

And a  _ werewolf _ .

Was it wrong that Chris found them… attractive? One of them wasn’t even human for crying out loud.  _ Allison makes it work _ , a voice nagged. He shut it out. Even if he could move past that, how was he supposed to feel right touching someone as young as Stiles? Someone his daughter’s age? How was he supposed to feel right  _ being  _ touched by him? Chris put his head in his hands. Just as another, haunting question ran through his mind. 

How could he feel right to be with a man, any man?

Chris clenched his jaw. He wasn’t… whatever that sentiment was called. But he’d grown up in a house that was. He’d grown up with a father that spit on people like that, even if they were soulmates. He, himself, didn’t have a problem with it. He was more evolved than his father, more accepting. He didn’t care. And he hated,  _ hated _ that he couldn’t be honest with himself. 

He hated that his father’s sentiments still seeped into his mind, corrupting his thoughts and telling him what he was feeling was wrong. 

But wasn’t it? 

Chris sat up straight, slapping himself lightly on the cheeks. He shook his head quickly as if trying to wake himself up. He shut off his mind and dove back into the case. Distracting himself was all he could handle right now. Whenever he let his mind wander… well, it wasn’t pretty.

*****

Around three AM, Chris could barely keep his eyes open, so he decided to call it a night. He shuffled back to his bedroom. He took off his watch and placed it on the nightstand along with his phone, which buzzed not two seconds after he set it down. 

He frowned and looked down at it. No one texted him but Allison, and it definitely wasn’t her. It was from an unknown number. Curious, he opened it. 

_ 3:02 AM: I can’t sleep _

Chris frowned and was planning on ignoring it, thinking it was a wrong number when another text came through.

_ 3:02 AM: don’t know why I’m texting you though… _

Then another.

_ 3:03 AM: oh, this is Stiles btw _

Stiles? Chris typed out a quick response and saved the contact information.

_ C: How did you get my number? _

_ S: swiped it from Allison earlier. Told her I needed it since I was doing research and might need your help. _

_ C: Do you need help? _

_ S: yeah, with sleeping. _

_ C: Good night, Stiles. _

_ S: no! Please. I can’t sleep.  _

_ C: What do you want me to do about it? _

_ S: well you clearly can’t sleep either _

_ C: Actually, I’ve been working. I was just about to go to bed. _

_ S: :( _

_ S: like I said, I don’t know why I texted you, but idk… you’re who came to my mind first. _

Chris felt a pang of  _ something _ to his chest.

_ C: Why can’t you sleep? _

_ S: nightmares _

Chris chewed his lip. 

_ C: Do you want to talk about it? _

_ S: not over text. _

_ S: can you meet me at the diner on 5th in 10 minutes? _

Chris hesitated, but whether it was from lack of sleep or because he felt sorry for Stiles or for some other reason, he agreed.

_ C: Sure. See you in 10. _

_ S: see you then _

Chris sat there for a moment before launching into action. He grabbed his keys, wallet, and phone and left the apartment. He drove to the diner Stiles told him about. It was nearly deserted this time of night, but there were a few patrons inside. A few of them looked homeless, taking refuge in the small diner, and a few looked like college students. Chris got out of his car and walked in. He didn’t see Stiles, so he took a seat in a booth in the back of the diner, secluded from everyone else. One of the night-shift waiters walked over and asked, “What can I get ya?” 

“Just coffee, thanks,” he said as he heard the bell above the door chime. He looked over to see Stiles walk in, whose eyes scanned the diner until they landed on Chris’. Something in Chris’ gut twisted, but not out of disgust. He knew why Stiles couldn’t sleep. He could tell just by looking at him. The dark circles under his blood-shot eyes, the slight tremble in his lip. 

The nogitsune.

Stiles slid into the bench across from Chris and told the loitering waiter, “Hey, can I get a coffee, black, please?”

The waiter scribbled it down and stalked off to get their coffees. Stiles kept his eyes down until he returned, placing the coffees in front of them. He put sugar packets and cream cups on the table and let them be. 

Chris stirred in a couple sugar packets and a cream cup, waiting for Stiles to say something. He didn’t want to pressure him to talk. He got the impression Stiles partially just wanted company, someone to sit with. 

Chris took a sip of his coffee when Stiles spoke for the first time. “I’m sorry.”

Chris frowned and set his cup down. “For what?”

“For getting you out of bed.”

Chris shook his head. “I wasn’t in bed yet.”

Stiles dropped his head but didn’t say anything else. 

“I’m happy to be here, Stiles. If you need me.” He hadn’t meant to voice that last part, but he was glad he’d said it. 

It made Stiles lift his head and reveal his pinked cheeks. It was actually kind of cute. Stiles took a sip of his coffee before saying, “Well, I do.” He said it so quietly Chris barely heard it. In fact, he probably wouldn’t have if it weren’t for the fact that he was watching Stiles’ lips.

“And I’m here.”

Stiles sighed and leaned back in his seat. “I lied earlier. It’s not nightmares.”

Chris frowned and leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. “What is it, then?”

Stiles shook his head, looking off into the distance. “Sometimes…” He trailed off, swallowing. “Sometimes, I can’t tell… what’s real and what’s not. I can’t—see the truth. I can’t tell if I’m me or if I’m him… it, whatever. And when that happens—” He broke off, shaking his head again as tears welled in his eyes. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “When that happens, it’s like I’m back in that room in my mind, locked away while he runs rampant, hurting the people I love.” Stiles took another sip of his coffee and kept his eyes down. He hadn’t looked Chris in the eye since he sat down. 

“Stiles. This is real. I promise. This right here is real. I’m real.” Stiles shook his head again as if disbelieving, so Chris did something that shocked even himself. He reached out and gently grabbed his wrist. “Stiles, look at me.” Stiles moved his eyes up but not quite to Chris’. Chris gave a small squeeze to his wrist. “Please, Stiles.” 

Stiles looked up, meeting his gaze. “How can I tell?”

The question sent a pang to Chris’ chest. “You have control right now. You can get up and leave this diner if you want. You can throw this coffee in my face. All you have to do is trust yourself.”

“But how do I do that if I think I’m not me?”

Chris blinked, his lips parting. He didn’t have an answer for that.

“See? There’s nothing I can do.”

“That’s not true,” Chris said, almost on instinct.

“Then what do I do?” Stiles looked at him pleadingly.

Chris thought for a moment before an idea came to his mind. “You call me.” Stiles frowned. “You call me, and I tell you you’re okay. You call me and tell me to come over if you have to. You call me and cry. Whatever you need. Whenever you need it. That’s what you do.”

Stiles clenched and unclenched his jaw. “I can’t ask you to—”

“You’re not asking. I’m telling.”

Stiles just looked at Chris for a moment, his face unreadable. Then, his eyes took on a more mischievous glint and his lips turned up slightly at the corners. “We are so not going to be able to pull this off.”

Chris frowned, at a loss for a moment. “Pull what off?”

Stiles shook his head as he took another sip of his coffee. “The plan to be subtle.”

Understanding dawned on Chris, and he looked down at where his hand rested on Stiles’ wrist. He watched as his thumb rubbed back and forth along Stiles’ arm; he hadn’t even realized he was doing that. He slowly released Stiles from his grip. As he moved his hand back across the table, Stiles snatched it.

“Hey, I never said it was a bad thing.” Chris looked up into Stiles’ eyes and saw a look in his eyes eerily similar to Peter’s. “I was never a fan of that plan anyway.” Stiles smirked at him.

Chris couldn’t help the small smile that crept across his face. “You two are… I don’t know what the best word for it is.”

“Who, me and Peter?”

Chris nodded, averting his eyes. “He and I… we had a rough morning.”

“Yeah, my dad said you seemed angrier than usual.”

Chris frowned, moving his hand to take a sip of his coffee but found it caught in a clasp with Stiles’. So he used his other hand. “Than usual? What does that mean?”

“My dad… thinks you’re just a big ball of anger.”

“Well, he’s not completely wrong. At least he wasn’t about a year ago.”

“Because of Kate and…” Stiles trailed off, but Chris knew he was talking about Victoria.

“Yeah.” He hadn’t really talked about her in a while. “You know, by the end, we weren’t even pretending to love each other anymore. We used to, but we stopped a few years after Allison was born.”

“Why?”

Chris sighed. “She found her soulmate.”

“What? I thought she had a platonic soulmate or something?” Stiles sounded truly surprised.

“Where did you hear that?” Chris asked as the answer came to him. “Scott. Right, we told Allison that, but no. Victoria found her soulmate a few years after Allison was born, and because our marriage was more political than loving, she carried on with him on the side.”

“And her soulmate was okay with that?”

Chris tilted his head back and forth. “Not always. He got cancer about six years ago, and he died a year before Victoria. That was when she changed. She’d always been hard, especially with Allison, but when David was diagnosed with a fatal prognosis, she changed completely. She became even more of a hard-ass, and she hated that Allison’s soulmate was a werewolf. Absolutely hated it.”

“Yeah, I think we could tell,” Stiles muttered.

“Yeah, well, she didn’t waste any time yelling at Allison about it as if she could control it.” Chris shook his head. 

“And how did you feel?” Stiles asked hesitantly.

Chris sighed. “I won’t lie and say I was happy. It took me some time, but I don’t care. I really don’t. As long as he’s good to Allison, and he clearly is, then I don’t care what he is.”

“And what about Peter?”

Chris clenched his jaw. “What about him?” He knew exactly what Stiles was asking, of course. He just didn’t want to answer.

“He’s a werewolf.” Stiles didn’t continue, so Chris looked up.

“I wasn’t aware,” he said sarcastically.

“You know what I mean,” Stiles said flatly with a pointed look.

Chris took a deep breath and averted his eyes again. “It’s not easy.”

“I don’t think it’s easy for any of us.”

Chris nodded his agreement, and they just sat there for a moment in a comfortable silence, holding hands. Chris never thought his day would go the way it had. He’d never thought it would start with Peter kissing him and end with him holding hands with Stiles. He felt something at the back of his mind that wanted to yell at him and tell him that what he was doing right now was wrong, but Stiles’ hand was warm. And Chris’ was cold. So he pushed it back and let himself enjoy the moment.

“So what happened this morning? Was Peter an ass?”

“When is he not?” Chris answered, to which Stiles let out a laugh. “He was just pushing. You know what it’s like. We got into a fight last night, so when I picked him up this morning, I was still angry. And I guess my anger rubbed off on him, and that just made him annoy me to no end. By the time we got back to Derek’s loft, we’d both said some things we regretted, and he got out of my car and slammed the door so hard the window shattered.”

“He  _ what _ ?” Stiles interrupted. “He  _ shattered _ a window by just slamming the door? Jeez.”

“Yeah, and of course, I got mad, so I got out and we kept fighting and then—” Chris broke off.

“And then?” Stiles asked, leaning forward, curiosity lacing his tone.

“And then Peter… Well, you see, we were both yelling at each other and I was kind of egging him on and he got mad or something and then he… He kissed me.”

Stiles was silent for a moment, and Chris studied the rim of his coffee cup as he awaited his response. “So let me get this straight… you made Peter so angry that he not only slammed a car door so hard he shattered the window but he also  _ kissed _ you out of revenge?” Chris could only nod. “Wow… Just. Wow. That’s actually kind of hot.”

Chris looked up, disbelief manifesting on his features. “What? What exactly is hot about that?”

Stiles gave him a level look. “Come on, what isn’t hot about two guys getting so frustrated with each other that they can’t help but take it out on each other sexually?”

“There wasn’t anything sexy about it, trust me.”

“So it was bad.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“So it was good.”

“No, it wasn’t… It was just… It wasn’t anything,” Chris stuttered out.

Stiles nodded with a knowing glint in his eyes. “Right.”

“He just… it wasn’t good, okay? It was just a kiss.”

“Did you kiss back?”

“No.”

Stiles tilted his head to the side. “Why not?”

“Because! I wasn’t expecting it, and I was shocked and… I don’t know.”

Stiles laughed. Chris cut him a glare. “Sorry, it’s just. You had to have felt something. A kiss is never just a kiss, especially between soulmates.”

Chris paused and thought about the way his lips had burned for hours after, how they’d tingled upon impact. He thought about the way it had felt to have Peter’s body pressed flush against his. He’d be lying if he said he was completely unaffected. “It wasn’t nothing,” he admitted. “But I didn’t react well. I pushed him off and drove away.”

“I doubt Peter’s hurt by that.”

“Well, I also said some things that definitely could have.” Chris shook his head at the memories from this morning.

“Come on, Peter doesn’t get upset about that kinda stuff,” Stiles said.

“Of course he does.” Stiles frowned. “He just doesn’t show it,” Chris continued. “And he thinks he hides it well, but he doesn’t. At least, not to me. I can tell when he’s upset, and I think I upset him earlier.”

“Well, what did you say?”

Chris regretted it. He did. He’d let his anger get the best of him, and he’d let it slip. “I told him that I couldn’t believe we were soulmates.” Stiles’ hand slipped from his. “I was angry, and he’d been egging me on all day, and I was just. Look I’m not proud of what I said, and I regretted it as soon as I did.” 

“But you meant it?” Stiles asked, hurt in his eyes. 

Chris wanted to kick himself. He and Stiles had made some strides tonight, and now it was all going to shit. “No—yes, I don’t know. Stiles, Peter just… You know how he is.” Stiles regarded him with cold eyes, a complete 180 from just a moment ago. “Last night, he practically said the same thing to me, so I wasn’t… Look, Stiles, this whole thing is confusing to me. It’s all so new, and it’s nothing like I expected it to be. It’s hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that I not only have two soulmates, but they’re both men and they’re both at least fifteen years younger than I am.”

“Well, it’s not easy when your soulmates are old enough to be your dad, either.” Stiles seemed to be deflating, the hurt seeping out of his eyes. “I’d be lying if I said the same thought had never crossed my mind. It’s hard for me to understand too, but it is what it is I guess. And I think… I think it’d be good if all three of us spent a little more time together. Alone. If for no other reason than to talk about all this. Because if you’re right, and Peter does get upset about all this crap, then he’s probably just as confused as we are.”

Chris nodded. “I agree.” He was about to say something else when a loud bang came from across the street. The patrons of the diner shuffled to the windows facing the street, trying to get a glimpse of what was happening. It was pointless, though, it was too dark out. 

That problem was solved when an explosion went off, lighting the entire strip on fire. Chris jumped up, yelled, “Call 911,” and ran out of the diner towards the fire, Stiles on his tail. Chris stopped just short of the burning buildings. It didn’t look like there was anyone in there. They seemed to be shops that were definitely closed by now. 

That was until the screams started. Chris raced towards them, stopping in front of the building from which they came. He couldn’t run into a burning building, no matter how much he felt the need to. 

“Chris!” Stiles yelled to get his attention. He was still standing in front of the building across from the diner, and he studied something on the ground.

Chris jogged back to where Stiles stood. “What?”

Stiles just pointed to the ground. It took Chris a moment to notice it, but once he did, he instantly recognized it. A dark red pentagram painted on the ground. Off the bottom right point, a dark red triangle was painted, a witch’s symbol for fire. 

“Looks like they’re here.”

Stiles nodded. “I’ll call the others.”

Chris nodded as a way of approval when he heard sirens off in the distance. He wanted to be hopeful that they’d get here in time to save the people burning a few buildings down, but he knew they wouldn’t. Even if they did, the magic was done, and nothing could reverse that. Chris walked across the street to the curb in front of the diner and sat down, and he watched the fire burn. 

Burn, burn, burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this slow-build is killing you guys, but trust me, it's killing me too. Hopefully, I can make it so things will heat up soon. ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, guys, I'm so motivated for this story. I love it so much. And I'm soooo glad you all are enjoying it too! I'm on break right now, so I can just write, write, write, and it's literally the best thing. Once I start school again, though, you guys should be prepared for less frequent updating. :(
> 
> Anyways, thanks to everyone who leaves kudos and comments, y'all are great! And I hope you guys like this chapter. It's a little more plot-oriented with the witches, but there's still some good moments among the trio.
> 
> Happy reading!

Stiles called his dad first—well, the station—but when the front desk answered, they told him that his dad was already en route. So he hung up and thought of who to call next. Making an impulse decision, he dialled Peter’s number (another contact he’d swiped from one of his friends). 

“What?” Peter’s groggy voice shouldn’t be as alluring as it was, but the deep, gravelly, somewhat raspy voice just…  _ did  _ things to Stiles. It took him a moment to respond. “Hello?”

Stiles snapped out of it and said, “Hey, uh, it’s Stiles.”

“Yes, I have your number, Stiles. What do you need?”

“Wait, I didn’t even have your number before today, how the hell did you have mine?”

Peter sighed on the other end of the line, already seemingly annoyed. “Look, if you’re calling because I pissed off Argent—”

“That’s not why I’m calling. The witches attacked.”

Stiles could hear Peter sit up and get out of bed. “When?”

“Just now. They lit a whole block on fire. The fire department are on their way, but…” He trailed off.  _ They’re not going to get here in time.  _

“Where?”

“Across the street from the diner on fifth.”

Peter paused for a moment. “Wait, Stiles, are you there?”

“Yeah, Chris is too, we—”

“What the hell are you doing there at this time of night?” If Stiles wasn’t mistaken, that was concern he heard in Peter’s voice. Maybe even a hint of jealousy.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said quietly.

Peter released a breath and said, “I’ll be there soon,” and the line went dead. 

Stiles was confused.  _ Huh _ , he thought,  _ maybe, Chris was right, and this stuff does get to him _ . He walked back over to his other soulmate as he dialled Scott’s number. 

“M’ello,” Scott answered, half-asleep.

Stiles couldn’t help but laugh. “Rally the troops,” Stiles said. “The witches attacked. Fifth ave.”

Scott sounded much more awake when he spoke next. “I’m up, I’m up. I’ll call Allison and the others.”

A feeling of nervousness crept into Stiles’ chest. “Even Lydia?”

“Yeah, but I doubt she’ll come. You know how she is,” Scott said with a laugh. “Gotta have her beauty sleep.”

Stiles released a small, relieved laugh too. “Ha, you’re right.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

“Ok, see you.” Stiles hung up and sat down next to Chris.

“What’s wrong with Lydia coming?” He asked, curiosity lacing his tone.

Stiles sighed. “She, uh, kinda figured out I’d found my soulmates.”

“What?” Chris asked, throwing him a panicked look.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t tell her who you guys are.” Right then, fire trucks pulled up in front of the burning buildings and started working on putting out the fire.

“You think she’d be able to tell?”

Stiles let out a small, cynical laugh. “Definitely. She’s perceptive. Honestly, though, I’m worried enough that  _ Scott _ will be able to tell, and that’s saying something.”

Chris gave a snort. “Well, Allison hasn’t figured me out yet. She knows something’s up, but she doesn’t know.”

Stiles looked over at him. Chris was wearing short sleeves without a care. “How? Has she not noticed your wrist yet?”

Chris gave his clean wrist a look and considered that. “I honestly hadn’t thought about that… I don’t know. Maybe because I’m her dad she just doesn’t think to look.”

Stiles nodded, understanding and returned his attention to the firefighters. They were definitely trying to put the fire out, but it looked like they were struggling. It actually looked like the water wasn’t doing anything at all. It looked like it didn’t matter how much water they used. The fire was magic, regular water wouldn’t do the trick. Stiles didn’t know how he knew that, but he did. It was like he could…  _ feel _ it. No, that was impossible. Stiles dismissed the feeling, or whatever it was. They’d put it out. They had to.

Chris nudged Stiles as a car pulled into the diner’s parking lot and parked next to Stiles’. Peter stepped out a moment later and started walking toward Stiles and Chris. Stiles wondered how he’d beaten his dad and Parrish just as three sheriff cruisers rounded the corner.

“What I miss?” Peter asked as he came to stand before Stiles and Chris. Stiles watched him closely, trying to see if Chris was right earlier. Peter looked like he always did—annoyingly attractive and confident, but then, Stiles met his eyes. Peter’s eyes were fixed on him, not in a creepy way, not in a  _ I’m going to kill you _ way. It was more like he was fixing on Stiles because he didn’t want to look anywhere else—or rather, at  _ anyone _ else. 

Stiles’ jaw dropped. Chris was right. Peter was affected by all this. Stiles was just about to call him out on it when his dad walked up to them. His sass died on his lips. “What are you doing here?” His dad asked, anger and worry hanging on every word.

“I couldn’t—”

“You know what, I don’t want to know.” His dad sighed and shook his head as he turned to Parrish and the other deputies. “Parrish, take two deputies and go inside. See if any of the diner’s customers saw anything. The rest of you, go see if the fire department needs any help. Do whatever they need.” As his deputies dispatched, the sheriff turned back to Stiles, Chris, and Peter. “I assume you already called the others.” Stiles nodded. “So then it was the…” His dad trailed off.

“The witches?” Stiles supplied. “Yeah. Come take a look at this.” He walked over to the sigil painted on the ground, his father and Peter following. 

“What is it?” His dad asked.

Peter squatted down next to the symbol and touched it. “It’s completely dry. No telling how long ago this was painted.”

Stiles answered his dad’s question. “I think the triangle off the bottom right point is the witch’s symbol for fire.”

“It is,” Peter said, standing back up. “Good eye, Stiles.” 

Stiles cast a quick, shocked glance Peter’s way, but he was still studying the symbol on the ground. Was it just him, or had Peter just paid him a compliment? 

“So they used this symbol to start the fire?” Stiles’ dad asked. 

Stiles shrugged. “That’d be my guess. I mean, look at the firefighters. They’re pouring gallons and gallons of water on the fire, and it’s not doing anything. It must mean the fire is magic-based.” His dad regarded the firefighters and their efforts, shaking his head. 

“Well, how the hell are we supposed to beat it?”

Peter shrugged. “The power will wear off eventually. Once it starts to weaken, the water will put it out.”

Chris, seemingly coming out of nowhere, jumped into the conversation. “There are people in there.”

“And until the fire is weakened, there’s nothing we can do.”

“You selfish—” Chris started.

“Selfish?” Peter turned on him, stepping into his personal space. Stiles watched the exchange, felt the tension radiating between them. “ _ Not _ rushing in and getting ourselves killed in order to save people that are beyond saving doesn’t seem  _ selfish _ to me. It’s common sense,  _ Argent _ .”

Chris clenched his jaw. “People are dying.”

“Yes, they are.” Peter took a step closer; Chris didn’t move. Stiles didn’t know what to do. “And what do you suggest we do about it?” When Chris didn’t answer, Peter tilted his head to the side and leaned closer, their faces centimeters apart. Stiles watched on in amazement. “Exactly,” Peter said after a few long moments of silence dragged by.

Chris deflated. Stiles cautiously stepped up to them and said, “Um, guys?” Peter turned his gaze to him, his hard eyes…  _ softening _ . He took a step back from Chris and recomposed himself into the confident asshole he was. Thankfully, Stiles’ dad had been pulled away by one of his deputies during Chris and Peter’s spat. Looking around to make sure no one was close enough to hear, Stiles said, “You two need to get your shit together, or your  _ keep-it-on-the-down-low _ plan is gonna backfire fast.” Chris clenched his jaw and nodded. Peter rolled his eyes. Stiles shook his head; those responses were the best he could have hoped for. They really needed to talk, but now was neither the time nor place. The three of them just stood there for a moment, awkwardness seeping into the air among them. Stiles looked between Chris and Peter, each of them looking at the ground. 

“Hey, what happened?” Stiles turned to greet Scott, Allison, and Isaac, and it was definitely the heat of the fire that was making his cheeks warm. It was definitely  _ not _ because he had been interrupted talking to his soulmates.

“We’re not entirely sure. There’s a sigil on the ground over there, with the witch’s symbol for fire,” Stiles answered.

Scott’s eyes hardened. “Was anyone…” He trailed off, but Stiles understood.

“There are some people in one of the buildings at the end of the block,” Chris said, his voice strained.

Allison looked to where the firefighters were currently wrestling with the fire. “How long have they been here?” She asked.

“About ten minutes,” Stiles said, looking at his watch. “But they don’t seem to be making much progress. If the fire really is magic-based, then the fire department may not be able to do much.”

Scott and Allison both grimaced. “If this is their  _ first _ attack, what will their next ones be like?”

“Probably worse,” Peter butted in. Stiles glared at him, but he was unphased. “We need to do more research. Look into different spells and sigils. This symbol here is rudimentary—”

“Does that mean they aren’t advanced?” Isaac interrupted.

Peter gave him an unimpressed look before continuing. “No. This magic seems traditional, not necessarily amateur. If it turns out this fire  _ is _ entirely magic-based, and nothing else was used to supplement the magic, then we’re working with a powerful coven, or at least a powerful leader of a coven. We need to know what kind of magic they’re using, and this symbol here will lead us to that answer.” Stiles’ dad rejoined the group then, and Peter directed his next statement to him. “We need to figure out who drew this symbol. Are there any security cameras nearby?”

“There’s traffic cams, but they may be too far away to catch anything of significance. All these buildings are too old to have security cameras, and even if they did, there’s no way we’ll be able to salvage any of the footage.”

Peter nodded in understanding. “Do what you can, I guess.” He turned back to the rest of the group. “Stiles, you and Chris and anyone else with an intelligent bone in their body need to work together on research. You need to see if you can figure out what kind of magic they're using, and then what spells they might use,what rituals they may be trying to perform, all of that. I'm going to focus on the Nemeton, see if I can't figure out how they might tap into its power. From this first attack, we can't be sure if they know about it yet or not.”

“I thought we agreed you'd give us advice, not bark orders,” Scott said.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Oh, oh, you're right. I overstepped. I  _ advise _ you to do all of that. Happy?”

Stiles cut a glare at Peter before focusing on Scott. “He's right, Scott. That's what we need to do.” Scott looked at him and nodded. 

“Fine,” he conceded. “I think the pack should sweep the area, see if we can't pick up a scent.”

“What a brilliant idea,” Peter said with a sneer. “Only, where is the rest of your pack?” He made a show of looking behind Scott and Isaac and raised an eyebrow. “If they're not here, it'll just be you and and a cub out here.”

Stiles was sick if Peter's attitude, so before he could stop himself, he hit Peter on the arm. Obviously, it wasn't enough to hurt him or anything, he was a werewolf after all, but it got his attention. Peter turned to him with a slightly amused, slightly pissed off face. “Would you cut it out? Everyone here is after the same goal. If you think an idea is pointless or whatever, just say it. Don't beat around the bush. We don't have time for your bullshit.”

Peter’s eyes narrowed, but Stiles was pretty sure he saw something that looked like approval in them too. Then, he refocused on Scott. “I doubt you’ll be able to pick up a scent with the fire still raging. You and your pack should come back tomorrow when it’s out and try then.”

Scott nodded in agreement. “That’s probably a better idea.”

“Probably? Oh, it’s—” Stiles elbowed Peter in the ribs before he finished his sentence. “Yes, it probably is.”

“All right, well, we need to give the firefighters some space, and we need to finish getting witness statements,” Stiles’ dad said. “You should all head home.” The group nodded, and they all turned to go back to their cars. “Stiles,” his dad stopped him before he got too far. Stiles stopped and waited for his dad to continue; out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chris and Peter stop a few yards away. “What were you doing here?” The earlier anger was replaced with concern.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I came here to get a coffee,” he said, omitting the fact that he was here with Chris. 

“Stiles, you know you can always—”

“You were working, I didn’t want to bother you,” he cut his dad off before he could be given the same lecture he was always given.

“You wouldn’t be bothering me,” his dad whispered. “Just go on home. We’ll talk tomorrow.” His dad gave him a small pat on the shoulder before turning and walking towards the firefighters.

Stiles turned back to walk briskly to his car and was greeted by Chris and Peter. The others were nowhere to be seen. “Everything okay?” Chris asked as Stiles passed them. 

Stiles nodded and kept walking, not wanting to talk to them in front of all these people. He reached his car and got in. Unfortunately, Peter climbed into the passenger seat right as he was about to start up the Jeep and drive off. Before Peter got in, though, Stiles heard him say to Chris, “I’ll handle this.” 

Stiles looked out the corner of his eye and saw Chris hesitate before nodding and walking back to his SUV. The silence between Stiles and Peter dragged on. 

“So what’s keeping you up at night?” Peter asked after a few long moments. 

“None of your business,” he said, not wanting to go into it with Peter. There was a reason he’d texted Chris earlier and not him. He had a feeling Peter would just mock him or something.

Peter sighed next to him. “Only trusting one of your soulmates, huh?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Well, you don’t trust  _ either  _ of us.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Peter was quiet for a moment and then said, “But we are soulmates, so if there is ever anything you need from me, something Chris can’t give you—say you need someone killed or scared—I will help.”

With that, Peter opened the door and got out of Stiles’ car. Stiles watched him as he got into his own car and drove away, leaving Stiles a little stunned. Had  _ Peter _ really just said what Chris had said earlier?  _ If you need me, I’m here. _ They’d both practically said that to him, and while he could expect to hear such things from Chris, the words coming from Peter were a surprise. And sure, Peter’s words were a little more… Peter, but they held the same meaning. 

Stiles yawned as he started his car and shook his head, pulling out of his parking space and driving home. He’d reached an understanding tonight with both of his soulmates. It was clear the two of them had some unresolved issues between them, but they seemed to agree on one thing. They agreed on Stiles. They seemed to understand one another when it came to him, and the fight between them ceased to be an issue once Stiles was upset. And Stiles also seemed to have the power to stop them from fighting, if only temporarily. 

_ Well _ , Stiles thought as he pulled into his driveway,  _ it’s progress _ .


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I am having such a good time writing this fic, and I hope you all continue to enjoy it! There's some fluff and angst coming in the next few chapters, but there will definitely be some developments on the witch-front as well.
> 
> Happy reading, and happy holidays!

Peter pushed Chris against the wall. The other man moved his hands to push Peter away, but he caught his wrists and pinned them above his head. Chris gave him a disgruntled look. “Oh, Argent,” Peter said with a smirk. “Resisting is pointless. Don’t you know that by now?” Chris’ mouth was set in a thin line, but his eyes betrayed his excitement. Grinning, Peter smashed their lips together. He licked into the other man’s mouth and was greeted with a needy groan. Peter stepped closer, flushing their bodies together. He could feel Chris’ excitement against his thigh, and he moaned into the kiss. He lost himself in the feel of Chris’s lips against his, moving enthusiastically, and his body— 

A pair of hands rested themselves on Peter’s hips, making him break the kiss with Chris. But when he opened his eyes, the eyes staring glossily back at him were soft brown, not grayish-blue. Peter frowned and leaned back, looking over Stiles, who was panting slightly.

A low chuckle came from behind him. “Did I surprise you?” Chris whispered into his ear, the feeling of his breath giving him goosebumps. “What, did you turn off your werewolf senses or something?” Chris teased as he nibbled his ear. Peter’s eyes fluttered closed from the sensation, and his grip on Stiles’ wrists loosened. Stiles took advantage and wiggled his hands free, using them to pull Peter back to him for another impassioned kiss. Peter welcomed the younger man’s lips against his and again lost himself in the feeling of their bodies being pressed together. Behind him, Chris kissed his way around the back of his neck, working his way to Peter’s other ear and leaving a trail of goosebumps along the way. It felt—

Peter woke with a start, his alarm shattering the fantasy of his dream. Sighing, he turned off the damned thing and remained in bed, staring up at the ceiling. His breath was slightly ragged, his cock was half-hard, and his brain was muddled. It had been a week since the witch attack, and he hadn’t seen Chris or Stiles in that time. He hadn’t even talked to them. And while he didn’t miss them, his body clearly did. In the past week, he’d barely given them one thought—while he was conscious, that is. Subconsciously, however, he’d thought of them many, many times. He’d dreamt about them nearly every night since the witch attack, and while the dreams were pleasant, they made him feel like a goddamn teenager. Not to mention that they only confused him more. And Peter didn’t like being confused.

A loud knock sounded through the loft, breaking Peter out of his morning stupor. He frowned as he sat up. He hadn’t heard anyone come up the stairs or a car pull into the lot outside. Maybe Dream Chris was right, and he had turned off his “werewolf senses.” Another loud knock came when Peter didn’t answer the door, along with a yell.

“Peter! Open the damn door!” Peter rolled his eyes at Stiles’ theatrics. Nothing could be important enough to warrant these exclamations.

Peter stood up and stretched, taking his time to walk to the door and open it for the impatient young man waiting outside. He padded into the kitchen and put on some coffee as Stiles banged on the door again, making Peter chuckle. Finally, he walked to the door and pulled it open.

“ _ Finally _ , I thought you were never—” Stiles cut himself off as he caught a glimpse of Peter, who had remained in his sleepwear, consisting of nothing but a pair of black boxers. Stiles raked his eyes up and down Peter’s chest, not even attempting to hide the desire in his eyes. Peter grinned.

“You didn’t finish your sentence, Stiles,” he said seriously.

Stiles dragged his eyes up to meet Peter’s. “Uh, I, um… I don’t remember what I was saying.”

Peter’s grin widened. He stepped aside, letting Stiles into Derek’s loft. Stiles walked in slowly, almost hesitantly, and Peter said, “Relax, Stiles, I don’t bite.”

That seemed to snap Stiles out of it a little as he quipped, “You don’t bite? You’re a werewolf, that’s literally what you do.”

Peter rolled his eyes and went to close the door. “Is it just you?”

“Yeah, but Chris will be here in a little bit. He had to grab something from his apartment.”

Peter frowned as he walked back into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee. “Was there some sort of meeting we had arranged that I didn’t know about?” Had Peter really been so distracted lately that he couldn’t remember something as simple as that?

Stiles shook his head as he made himself comfortable at the table. “No, we just found something and figured we’d come over to share it with you.”

“Ever heard of calling first?” Peter asked before taking a sip of his coffee.

“I tried,” Stiles claimed. 

Peter shook his head, grabbing his phone off the counter, about to prove Stiles wrong. Only, he wasn’t wrong. Peter had three missed calls from Stiles. “Well, I was sleeping,” he said flatly.

Stiles eyed him with a somewhat disconcerting look on his face. Peter couldn’t quite read it, and that bothered him for some reason. If Stiles wanted to say something, though, he didn’t, and an awkward silence fell between them. 

The sound of a car pulling up behind the loft broke the silence, and Peter snapped out of it, walking to the bedroom area—because it wasn’t really a room, was it?—to get dressed. Earlier, he’d wanted to mess with Stiles by opening the door practically nude, knowing it’d not only distract him, but make him incapable of speech as well. Peter  _ should _ want to do the same with Chris because that was just the kind of person he was. However, Peter found himself wanting to put Chris at ease, make him feel comfortable rather than uncomfortable. 

What the hell was happening to him?

Peter threw a T-shirt over his head and was pulling on some pants just as a knock sounded at the door. And as if he owned the place, Stiles yelled, “Come in!”

Rolling his eyes, Peter walked back into the dining area where Stiles was sitting. Chris walked in and joined them a moment later. After a week, he still avoided Peter’s eyes, looking only at Stiles, and for some goddamn reason, that bothered Peter. He ground his teeth together and balled his fists at his sides. 

Chris didn’t waste any time with formalities, just dove right into the current situation, annoying Peter even more. “Stiles, you said you’d found a ritual they could be doing, right?” Stiles nodded. “Well, I found a few mentions of rituals in my old journals. We should compare notes. If it’s a ritual I’ve already dealt with, it should be quote unquote easy.”

Peter sat down across from Chris and said, “Well, good morning to you too, Christopher.”

Chris didn’t bite and kept his eyes on Stiles, who was looking at his notes as if he were trying not to listen to the impending fight. There wasn’t one yet, but there would be if Peter had anything to say about it. “What ritual do you think they’re using?” Chris asked, ignoring Peter.

Stiles opened his mouth to answer, but Peter beat him to it. “Would either of you like some coffee? I just made a fresh pot.” Peter’s voice dripped with politeness, trying to provoke Chris. 

Still, Chris didn’t bite. “Stiles, what ritual?” Stiles looked at Peter, then, as if asking for  _ permission _ to speak. Peter rolled his eyes and nodded. Apparently, that was what finally got Chris’ attention. “Really? He needs your permission to talk now?” 

Peter shifted his gaze from Stiles to Chris, meeting Chris’ hard, grayish-blue eyes. They were nice eyes, Peter realized. Very nice. They weren’t meant to be hard and cold, but they were. They always were when they were trained on Peter. Getting a grip on himself, Peter smirked, but it felt weak. “Of course not. He’s a grown young man. He can make his own decisions.”

Chris narrowed his eyes and shook his head. He dropped his gaze a moment later, and Peter mourned the loss of his eyes on his— _ dammit, what the fuck is wrong with me? _ Chris stood up abruptly. “I don’t even know what we’re doing here, Stiles. He clearly doesn’t care about any of this. Let’s go.”

Chris turned and started walking to the door. Peter clenched his jaw and was prepared to let him leave when Stiles said, “Chris, don’t you dare walk out that door.” His voice was strong, almost unrecognizable, and it made Chris stop in his tracks, his back facing them. For a few long moments, Peter watched as he stood there, unmoving, wondering if Chris would leave. Finally, Chris’ shoulders slumped, his head dropped, and he released a long sigh. He turned back to them and took his seat at the table again, avoiding both Stiles’ and Peter’s eyes. It was then that Stiles turned to Peter and said, “ _ Do _ you care about any of this? Because if you don’t, we’ll leave and handle this problem on our own.”  _ Without you _ , Peter read the unsaid phrase in Stiles’ eyes. The thought should have been more pleasant than it was.

“Obviously, I want this problem solved as much as you or I wouldn’t have brought it to you all in the first place,” he said, avoiding the phrase “I care.”

“Then can you at least  _ try _ to work with us?”

“That’s hard to do when Argent here can’t even look me in the eye.”

Stiles frowned but also smirked slightly as if he’d caught Peter doing something he wasn’t supposed to. “So Chris is right. You are affected by the whole soulmate thing.”

Peter instinctually clenched his jaw. “No. I’m not.”

Stiles laughed. “Haha, of course you are! You’re clenching your jaw and your fists, your eyes are flashing right now, and last week, you—” Stiles cut himself off when Peter glared at him. He shouldn’t be surprised Chris told him about their little spat and Peter’s subsequent reaction. He’d never admit to it, but Peter actually regretted what he’d done, not just breaking Chris’ window but the other thing too.

“Last week, I what?” Peter asked, toying with Stiles.

Stiles swallowed, Peter followed the movement of his adam’s apple with his eyes. “You broke Chris’ car window and then you kissed him out of revenge,” Stiles said strongly, despite being under Peter’s scrutinizing gaze.

“And to you, that means that all this crap is getting to me?”

“What else would make you lose control?” Stiles asked, an edge of cockiness in his voice.

“I did  _ not  _ lose control,” Peter growled.  _ Goddammit, yes, you did _ , a voice nagged.

Stiles smirked, the bastard, and leaned close to Peter. “Oh, yes you did.”

Peter looked at Stiles, looked into his soft, brown eyes, and contemplated the likelihood of his getting away with his murder. The boy was so infuriating; he just pushed and pushed and pushed, and he loved the way he could work his way under people’s skin, Peter could tell. It was all just a game to him, just a stupid, little— 

A wave of understanding washed over Peter, interrupting his thoughts. This must be what it was like to talk to himself. Just like that, Peter deflated, laughing almost hysterically. Peter saw Stiles lean back and frown, casting a confused look at Chris. Peter shook his head as he stopped laughing.

“Peter?” Chris asked uncertainly. It was the first time he’d said his name in a week, and it sounded all wrong coming out of his mouth. “Are you okay?”

Peter let out another laugh. “Let’s have a tea party and discuss our feelings, shall we?” He shook his head. “Get back to the case. What did you find?” He focused back on Stiles, who regarded him with a look of pure confusion, but after a moment he jumped into all the research he’d found.

Chris interjected here and there, asking questions or giving supplemental information from his journals, but Peter truly wasn’t paying much attention. He zoned in and out, listening but not listening at the same time. He mostly watched as Stiles and Chris worked together, regarding them with internal confusion. After the argument earlier, Peter was careful not to show his emotions outwardly. Peter had always thought he and Stiles were a good match, and it was Chris’ place in their soulmate-ship that confused him. But now, watching them together, Peter found himself questioning  _ his _ place in the trio. Chris and Stiles had a way of understanding each other. Multiple times during their little meeting, they both finished each other’s sentences and understood what the other was saying from a nondescript sentence. Stiles could say, “they’d use the thing, I can’t remember what it’s called,” and Chris would respond with, “I know what you’re talking about, keep going.” It annoyed Peter to no end. He wasn’t one to feel left out, he wasn’t. Because he really couldn’t care less about being a part of a team or a group or anything. Yet here he was, feeling left out. Peter clenched his jaw.

God, he wished they would leave.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, everyone! I have a new chapter for all you lovely people, I hope you like it! It's a little shorter than usual, but I think the next chapter will make up for it. ;)
> 
> Enjoy!!

Peter was oddly quiet for the rest of their meeting. If Chris were being honest with himself, he’d say that his silence was a little more than disconcerting. It was actually  _ worrying _ .  _ When the hell did I start worrying about Peter? _ He thought to himself. 

He and Stiles had managed to figure out what ritual the witches were using. They didn’t know the exact name for it, but it was a ritual that moved through the five elements: fire, water, earth, air, and spirit. This ritual would explain the symbol they’d found at the site of the fire, and he expected that they would find similar symbols at future attacks. Part of him was glad they had figured out the ritual, which made it easier to pinpoint what type of magic they were using, but another part of him coiled up with fear. He wasn’t scared of the witches per se. He was scared of what they were going to do to this town. Their first attack had been immensely destructive, five people died and even more were injured. What was next?

“My dad said they might have found a few possible suspects for coven members,” Stiles said, his voice breaking into his thoughts. 

“Really? Can we get the files so that we can check them out?” He asked.

Stiles’ face turned hesitant. “Well, my dad said he and Parrish were going to run preliminary checks on them, see if they can narrow it down a little more.”

Chris nodded in understanding. It wasn’t a bad idea. “That sounds reasonable.” Chris sighed and glanced at Peter, who was clenching his jaw, frowning, and boring a hole into the center of the table with his eyes. Deciding he wanted to try to include him and move past what happened last week, he said, “What do you think of all this, Peter?”

Peter’s eyes jumped to his at the sound of his name, his icy blue eyes cold and distant. “If we want to let a couple of amateurs handle this for us, then by all means,” he said with a flick of his hands. 

Stiles, seemingly done with Peter’s crap, backhanded him on the arm. It wasn’t the first time he’d done that. If Chris remembered correctly, he’d hit Peter twice the night the witches attacked. “My dad and Parrish aren’t amateurs. They’re more professional than all three of us combined.”

To Chris’ surprise, Peter didn’t respond to that. He had half-expected Peter to go off on Stiles, tear him a new one, but he did the opposite. He actually  _ deflated _ a little, the tension slowly seeping out of his shoulders, at least a little bit. Then to add to the pile of surprise, he closed his eyes and said, “I’m sorry,” his voice so quiet, Chris wondered if he’d heard him correctly.

When Stiles shot Chris a shocked glance, his mouth open in a wide O, Chris knew he had heard right. Neither he nor Stiles said anything for a moment, both of them wondering what the hell was going on and why Peter was acting the way he was.

Finally, Peter said, “Is that all you came by for today? If so, I have some things to do, so if you would be so kind.” His voice had returned to its normal sarcastic tone, but Chris heard the strain in his voice. His normal bravado was forced.

Maybe they should leave. Chris looked to Stiles and gestured with his head that they should leave, but Stiles shook his head insistently. Chris responded with a pointed look towards Peter and then jerked his head back to the door. And then Peter huffed out a laugh.

“Oh, this little silent lover’s quarrel really is entertaining, but you need to go,” he said, a lazy smile on his face, but again, Chris could see the force behind it that said it wasn’t real.

Chris stood up, fine with leaving Peter in his foul mood, but Stiles remained seated. “No,” he said simply. Chris closed his eyes and let out a sigh, sitting back down. “You don’t get to just push us away whenever you start to  _ feel _ something. That’s not how this works.”

Stiles was smart, but that was an incredibly naive statement. “Come on, Stiles, you’re smarter than that,” Peter echoed Chris’ thoughts. “It’s not that simple and you know it. Not with us.”

“Maybe it is!” Stiles half-yelled hysterically. “Maybe we just think it’s complicated because  _ we’re  _ the ones complicating it. Ever think of that?”

Peter clenched his jaw. Chris watched him and knew he was thinking of something to say, so he decided to let Stiles and Peter talk it out. He didn’t want Peter to feel ganged up on.  _ Wouldn’t he do that to you, though? _ Chris pushed the voice to the back of his mind. “You’re right,” Peter conceded, shocking Chris for the second time that day. “Maybe it is us who are needlessly complicating this whole thing. Maybe. But even if we are, that doesn’t mean it isn’t complicated by nature.” Stiles sighed. “Soulmates aren’t supposed to know each other for years before they find out they’re soulmates. It doesn’t work that way. But that’s how it worked out for us, and if you don’t think that makes things complicated, you’re as dumb as Scott.”

Stiles looked hurt and a little shocked by that statement, and Chris was about to jump to his defense when he looked at Peter. Peter had just shifted his eyes to Stiles, and Chris watched as they filled with regret. Peter clenched his jaw before averting his gaze. 

“You know I don’t think you’re an idiot, Stiles,” he said calmly. Chris watched as some of the tension faded from Stiles’ shoulders. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t  _ act _ like an idiot. And believing that the three of us will fall deeply in love and be in a strong, committed relationship is idiotic. Between my hatred for the two of you and Argent’s aversion to cock, I doubt we’ll ever have that.” Chris felt his cheeks heat from being called out on something like that in such a vulgar manner. He wasn’t one to blush, but a sentence like that would make  _ anyone _ blush.

“And what about me?” Stiles asked. “I have no such aversions as you said, and to be perfectly honest, I don’t hate either of you.” Peter eyed him warily, as did Chris. He wasn’t sure where this was going. “Sure, I don’t 100% trust you, Peter, and I’m not 100% comfortable with the whole age difference thing, but I’ll move past it. In a lot of ways, I already have. You guys have no idea how many wet-dreams I had this week because of you two.” Chris’ cheeks burned again because seriously, who says shit like that in civilized company? Not to mention, Chris had also had a few dreams like that himself. “You’re both hot; I’d like to think I’m decently attractive. Why can’t we just…” Stiles trailed off, though Chris wasn’t sure he wanted to know what he was going to say as he watched a blush spread over Stiles’ cheeks. 

Peter, on the other hand, seemed to be curious as he leaned closer to Stiles, an amused look on his face. “Why can’t we what?” He asked playfully. Stiles didn’t respond, so Peter finished the thought for him. “Why can’t we just sleep together, is that it? Is that what you were going to ask?” Stiles’ face turned a brighter shade of red, but he nodded. A wave of emotion washed over Chris, confusion mixing with want, disgust mixing with desire. Peter leaned back and looked between his two soulmates. Chris didn’t like the look on his face. Finally, he said, “Well, I’m all for relieving a little tension.” He paused, focusing his gaze on Chris. “The question is,” he said leaning his elbows on the table, “are you?” It was clear the question was directed at Chris, and he resisted the urge to squirm under the intense scrutiny of Peter’s gaze. Instead, he held it, trying to exude the confidence he was currently severely lacking.

“I wasn’t really saying we should do it now…” Stiles trailed off, and Chris could see him out of the corner of his eye, looking between him and Peter uneasily. 

“Why not?” Peter asked with a shrug, his eyes never leaving Chris’. “It’s not like you have school in the morning, and Chris doesn’t have a job, so we’re all clear. The only thing keeping us from it is this one,” he said pointing at Chris.

“I’m not keeping you from doing anything,” Chris stated, his voice more distant than he intended. “You two can do whatever you like.”

“Oh, just us? You don’t want to join?” Peter asked, mock curiosity in his voice.

“Peter,” Stiles said sternly. “It’s obvious he isn’t comfortable with this, why can’t you—” Peter cut him off.

“Why can’t I give him a pass? What, like he gave me a pass last week when he called me selfish for not wanting to get myself killed saving people from a fire? A fire not all that dissimilar to the one that killed my entire family and nearly killed me? A fire that  _ his _ sister set?” Peter wasn’t screaming, but he might as well have been. His voice seemed to echo off the walls with how emotionally raw it was. “Why does  _ he  _ always get a pass? Because he’s the  _ good guy _ and I’m the _villain_?” Peter shifted his cold stare to Stiles, who actually  _ flinched _ when he met it. “Grow up, Stiles. This isn’t a fairytale.” Chris wanted to jump to his own defense, wanted to yell at Peter for talking to Stiles like that, but… he couldn’t. He found himself frozen to his spot. All of what Peter had just said… none of it had ever crossed his mind. How could he not have thought of the Hale fire? He was such an idiot. “Now, get out,” Peter gritted out, interrupting Chris’ thoughts.

This time, Stiles didn’t fight him on it. Instead, he stood slowly and walked to the door. A moment later, Chris followed him. The sound of the loft door closing resonated through the hallway, too loud.

Stiles was waiting by his Jeep when he reached the parking area behind the loft. Chris paused and asked, “Are you—are you okay?”

Stiles had a distracted look on his face, one that worried Chris. He didn’t like that look. Stiles nodded stiffly, a little delayed. “I’m fine,” he said, almost whispered. Without another word, he got into his car and drove off. 

Feeling like he’d somehow failed both his soulmates in the matter of ten minutes, Chris got into his own car and drove himself home, regret eating away at him more and more the farther he got from the loft.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, next chapter! I hope y'all like it! So, I'll be starting school tomorrow, so I may not be posting as often, lo siento, but I'll try to post at least 1 or 2x a month. In the meantime, I hope this chapter finds you well, and you enjoy it. The Steter is strong with this one. ;)

_ Grow up, Stiles. This isn’t a fairytale _ .

The words jolted Stiles from his sleep. Sighing, he looked over at his clock before he let out a long groan. It was nearly three AM, and he was now wide awake. He could feel it, could tell that he wouldn’t be able to sleep again tonight. Stiles sat up in his bed and pulled his knees to him, leaning his head on them. He wished he had normal soulmates.

He’d always thought that he’d be ecstatic when he found his soulmate, thought it would be gushy and romantic like all of the couples around him. But that was about as far from the reality as Neptune was from the sun. Instead of being sappily in love and being annoyingly public with affections to his soulmate, he was constantly reminded that he and his soulmate- _ s _ just don’t fit. And by none other than his soulmates themselves. Peter was adamant about the three of them not falling in love, and Chris couldn’t believe they were soulmates. 

And yet. Stiles couldn't help but be drawn to them, to be attracted to them. To want to confide in them. Even now, after waking up from the icy words Peter had said to him three days ago, he wanted to call them and hear their comforting voices. 

That was why he found himself reaching for his phone and scrolling through the contacts before landing on Peter. He hesitated before hitting call, but he hit the button all the same. Wanting,  _ needing _ to hear his voice.

The phone rang five or six times, and Stiles began to think Peter wasn’t going to answer, of course, just as Peter answered. Unlike the night of the witch attack, Peter’s voice was heavy-laden with sleep. “Hello?” He drawled out slowly.

Stiles couldn’t help the small grin that spread across his lips. “Hey, sleepyhead,” Stiles teased before he could stop himself.

“Stiles?” Peter asked, sleep still clouding his voice. “Why are you calling me?”

Stiles paused. Why  _ was _ he calling him? “Can I come over?” He asked as his lips moved of their own volition. Stiles hadn’t meant to ask him that. He hadn’t meant to make this into some kind of… He wasn’t sure, would this be considered a booty call?

Peter sighed on the other end of the phone. “It’s three in the morning, Stiles, can’t this wait?”

“No,” he responded firmly. Though, he didn’t know why. If he were in control of his actions, he would have hung up the phone and fled the country from embarrassment. But, clearly, he wasn’t in control, so he sat on his bed, waiting with bated breath for Peter’s reply.

And, oh did Peter make him wait. It seemed like hours had passed before Peter spoke again, but Stiles looked at his clock and found it had only been a minute. “If it truly can’t wait until tomorrow, why not call Argent? You did last time.” Wow, sleepy Peter was jealous, apparently.

For some odd reason, that made him smile. “ _ Argent _ can’t give me what I want,” Stiles said, but seriously, he had no idea what he was saying. “Didn’t you say that if I ever needed anything he couldn’t give me, I could come to you?”

Stiles paused again and awaited Peter’s response. Peter made a low sound in the back of his throat before saying, “Fine.” Then the line went dead. Stiles sat there for a moment, a little hesitant, before his body took over yet again, making all the decisions for him. Within two minutes, he was climbing down the tree outside his window and heading off in the direction of Peter’s.

*****

Stiles did not know what he was doing. He did not know what he was doing. He was sitting in his Jeep, parked out back behind Derek’s loft, nerves twisting his gut into tight, tight knots. God damn, why was he so freaking nervous? 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. It was a text from Peter:  _ Surely, if you have time to sit out in your car for ten minutes before coming up, then this could have waited until morning. _

That spurred Stiles into action. He got out of his car and went up to the loft, the nerves in his stomach increasing the entire way. The door was cracked open just slightly when he reached it, so Stiles didn’t bother with knocking. He just walked into the loft, closing the door behind him. The loft was dark, almost pitch-black except for the moonlight flooding in from the big floor-to-ceiling windows. Peter was nowhere in sight. 

Stiles walked farther into the loft, looking around for Peter when he found a sleeping form on the bed in the corner. Well, he looked like he was sleeping, but Stiles was sure Peter was wide awake. Stiles walked to the end of the bed and stopped before it, unsure of what to do.

“Did you come here to stare at me, or is there something you’d like to discuss?” Peter asked, not moving from the bed. Stiles couldn’t tell in the darkness, but he was 99% sure he even had his eyes closed. He shifted on his feet, uneasily. He didn’t know what he was doing here. “And for fuck’s sake, calm down, I’m not going to eat you.” Stiles felt his face heat. Of course, Peter could hear his nervous heartbeat. 

“I, uh—you know what, I don’t know why I came here,” he said, turning to leave. He didn’t make it five feet before Peter stopped him.

In a flash, Peter was in front of him in all his half-naked glory. Stiles raked his eyes up and down his sleep-tousled form, but whatever he did, he didn’t meet the older man’s eyes. “Yes, you do, Stiles. Now,” Peter paused, being the dramatic little shit he was, “tell me what you need.” His voice was pure velvet, pure sin. Stiles didn’t know what to say to it, couldn’t think after hearing Peter’s sultry voice. So Peter repeated himself. “Stiles. Tell me what you need.”

Stiles looked up, meeting Peter’s gaze. His ice cold blue eyes frightened a lot of people—Stiles was pretty sure they frightened Chris—but they’d never really frightened Stiles. Maybe because whenever he saw them, they turned a little less icy, not a lot, but enough. And now was no exception. Stiles met Peter’s eyes and watched in fascination as they softened the slightest bit, warmed up at the sight of him. 

Instead of answering with words, Stiles leaned in and planted a sloppy kiss on Peter’s lips. It wasn’t sloppy for long, though. After a few moments of Stiles awkwardly kissing Peter, Peter reacted, pulling Stiles closer and deepening the kiss. The kiss quickly turned from sloppy to hurried and frantic. It wasn’t exactly sloppy, but it wasn’t  _ not _ sloppy either. Their mouths moved quickly and enthusiastically, but they were in sync. 

Stiles didn’t realize they were moving until the back of his knees hit the bed, and he fell backward onto it, breaking the kiss. He panted, looking up at Peter, whose eyes were stormy with need and hunger and desire. For a moment, they just stared at each other, saying nothing, doing nothing, only the sounds of their labored breaths filling the air. 

In the next second, Peter was on him again, crushing their lips together in a needy kiss. Stiles moaned into the other man’s mouth as he felt Peter’s hard length against his own. He pushed his hips up pressing their bodies closer together, and Peter moved his hands to Stiles’ waist to keep them still. Stiles almost _ whined  _ when Peter broke the kiss. God, what was wrong with him?

But then, Peter's lips trailed their way across Stiles’ jaw and down his neck, making Stiles gasp. Peter's rough stubble against his neck, his grip on his hips… it felt fucking great. It felt really,  _ really _ good.

But it wasn't enough. It was so fucking far from being enough. He needed to feel Peter's skin on his. Peter was halfway there, already in nothing but boxers, but Stiles was still completely dressed. And that displeased him.

As if reading his mind, Peter leaned away from Stiles, giving him room and said, “You have too many clothes on.” 

Stiles nodded dazedly and started pulling his clothes off. Peter helped by pulling off his shoes and working on his pants. Stiles managed to get his shirt off just as Peter got his pants off, and then Peter was on him again, claiming his lips in a bruising kiss. Now,  _ this _ was what Stiles needed. Peter's bare chest was pressed flush against his own, every nerve-ending igniting from the contact. Peter moved his way to Stiles’ neck again, sucking harshly at his nape. Stiles buried his fingers in Peter's short-cropped hair, gripping it tightly. Peter released his hips and snatched his wrists from his hair and pinned them above Stiles’ head. Stiles gave a small whine before he could stop himself.

Peter pulled away and gave him an amused look. “Something bothering you?” Stiles shot him a glare, but it just made Peter grin wider and laugh. “You still haven't told me what you need.”

Good god, this man was infuriating. Stiles couldn't have been any clearer on what he needed since he attacked Peter with his mouth. But apparently, actions didn't speak louder than words for Peter.  _ Apparently  _ he needed to fucking spell it out for him. 

Confirming his thoughts, Peter said, “I want to hear you say it,” with a small roll of his hips. Stiles groaned. 

“But you know,” Stiles claimed weakly. 

Peter grinned down at him and whispered huskily, “Oh, I know all right. I need you to say it, though. Make sure we're on the same page.” Stiles blinked up at him. Was… was Peter asking for his  _ consent _ ? “Tell me, Stiles, tell me what you need.”

“I need…” Stiles trailed off, getting distracted by Peter's hands on his wrists. “I need you to stop teasing and get on with it already.” He somehow managed to say that with a fair amount of confidence, though he had no idea how.

Peter grinned and released Stiles’ wrists, moving his hands down his torso and leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. When he reached the waistline of Stiles’ boxers, Stiles thought he might die. Peter's touch was light and gentle, almost sweet, and it was driving him insane. Peter traced the line of his boxers with his fingers, moving them back and forth, back and forth over his hip bones, all while his tongue licked over one of his nipples. He let out a small, surprised yelp when Peter suddenly bit it gently. It didn't necessarily hurt, but it wasn't painless either. Soon after the bite, though, Peter soothed it with gentle licks with his tongue. And finally,  _ finally _ , Peter's hand slipped into his boxers.

Stiles let out a relieved moan.  _ It’s about fucking time _ . Peter gave his cock a few lazy, loose strokes, still fucking teasing, and Stiles groaned out of frustration. “I thought I told you to stop teasing,” he rasped.

Peter responded by letting go and pulling his hand out of Stiles’ boxers.  _ No, no, no. _ God. He was so pathetic. Peter pulled his boxers down and off him, and all whiny thoughts fled from his mind as he resumed his lazy strokes. Stiles couldn’t deny that it felt good, even if it was teasing, but it still wasn't enough.  Needing more, he started thrusting his hips up to meet Peter’s strokes, but like earlier, Peter stopped him by gripping his hips and keeping them from moving. Only this time, he was only using one hand, yet the strength felt the same.  _ Werewolf strength, duh _ , he thought. 

Trying to get a little bit of a grip on himself, Stiles remembered he wasn’t alone here. Peter had needs too. So Stiles reached between them and squeezed Peter’s length through his underwear, making Peter’s hand stutter. Stiles looked up as the older man’s face contorted in pleasure. Smiling, he pulled Peter’s cock out and gave it a few strokes, but unlike Peter, he wasn’t teasing. He meant business, slowly dragging and squeezing his hand up, and loosening as he went back down. Peter’s hand on his own cock had stopped moving entirely as Stiles distracted him. His eyes had fluttered closed, and small moans escaped his lips as Stiles worked him over in the best possible way. Stiles could tell his control was slipping, and he loved,  _ loved _ that he’d done that to him. But he couldn’t just let Peter have this while he got none, so he stopped moving his hand.

Peter’s eyes flashed open. He looked annoyed but amused at the same time. “Now who’s the one teasing?” He asked, his voice heavy with lust. 

Stiles shrugged as best he could, considering Peter was on top of him. “You’re the one who stopped first.”

Peter narrowed his eyes before he made a sound not all that different from a growl and leaned down to kiss him. This kiss was different from their earlier ones. It was heavy, bruising, passionate, but most of all, it was  _ needy _ . Peter needed him just as much as Stiles did in that moment. Peter knocked Stiles’ hand away from his cock and took both his and Stiles’ in hand and began stroking in earnest. Stiles’ mind went blank, unable to think of anything coherent, and before long, he could feel his stomach coiling as he reached his climax.

He broke the kiss with Peter and panted, mumbling, “Please, please,  _ please _ .” And not ten seconds later, he came with a long, loud groan. 

Vaguely, off in the distance, he felt Peter pull him close before stilling on top of him. “Oh, shit,” he muttered as he came, little shivers racking his body. 

It took Stiles a few minutes to come down from his high and realize what had just happened. He and Peter had… Damn, that was good. Peter rolled off him, flopping onto the bed next to him. Despite thinking it was impossible earlier, Stiles felt his eyes droop.

“No, no, no, you can’t sleep here,” Peter said, but even he didn’t sound convinced. 

Stiles couldn’t move, though, no matter how much he should. “Too bad. I’m gonna.”

Stiles felt him roll his eyes before sighing. “Fine,” he grumbled. “But if anyone finds out you stayed the night, you’ll be the one doing the lying.”

Stiles smirked and said, “It’s not lying, Peter, more like omitting the truth.” Peter grunted something that sounded like a mix of annoyance and approval, and it was the last thing he heard as he finally drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I told you guys this slow-burn was killing me too. I was going to put off the smut even more, but I'm weak, so here it is. Hope y'all liked it!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm kind of breaking one of my rules for putting this chapter out, but whatever. I realized it's been a while since I updated, and I wanted to give you guys something to hold onto. I'm not quite having writer's block with the chapter after this, but I'm having trouble articulating everything that I want to happen. I hope it doesn't take me too long to write it, so there isn't as much time between updates. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Enjoy!!

Someone was in the loft. Peter woke with a start, hearing someone padding around in the kitchen. He wondered who it could be, ready to jump out of bed and attack when memories from last night flooded his mind.  _ Stiles _ . Right, it was Stiles in the loft. Peter closed his eyes again. Then, Stiles shifted in the bed next to him. Peter shot him a quick glance to confirm he wasn’t imagining things. There he was, hugging a pillow and sleeping softly, the sheet covering his ass and nothing else. He really was quite the sight in the morning. But now was not the time to admire the younger man sleeping next to him, not while someone else was in the loft. 

Slowly, and as quietly as possible, Peter sat up and got out of bed. The loft was dim, the sun hadn’t risen yet, and barely any light came through the windows. Peter looked around the loft as best he could from where he stood, but he couldn’t see anyone. He sniffed the air, but there was no scent. As if no one was here. But Peter  _ heard _ them, walking, breathing, could hear their heart beating. Cautiously, he took a few steps forward before stopping again. From this spot, he could see the entire loft, but he still didn't see anyone. Then, he heard papers rustling from the dining table, so he walked toward it quietly. 

The papers were moving of their own accord, but they stopped at his approach. Peter heard footsteps round the table and come toward him, but there was nothing he could do to thwart the attack of an invisible hand. The blow landed on the side of his face, but the person wasn't very strong. He barely felt it, but surprise got the better of him, and he stumbled back slightly. Another blow came, shoving him back, and this time, he stumbled even more, which gave the intruder enough time to sprint away. Peter chased after the invisible person, but they were gone by the time he reached the door, and without a scent, he couldn't track them. 

“Dammit,” he swore under his breath and slammed the loft door closed. A witch was here, in his home—well, his nephew's home. It was a powerful witch at that, one who could pull off an invisibility spell  _ and _ one who knew enough to mask their scent.  _ Shit _ , that meant they knew what Peter was. This wasn't good. “Dammit,” he swore again as he heard someone walk into the living area.

Thinking it was another intruder, Peter turned and charged at the figure by the table. He tackled Stiles right as he realized who he was and what he was doing there. “What the  _ hell _ ?” Stiles groaned in pain. 

Peter let his weight off Stiles and stood up. He lent a hand to Stiles, who looked up at him oddly before taking it. Peter hoisted him up and let go of his hand. “Someone was here,” he said walking to the table. Some of the papers from his research were on it, and it looked like someone had been going through it. Unfortunately, there was no way Peter would be able to tell if anything was missing.

“Who?”

“A witch. She used an invisibility spell and masked her scent. She managed to get away before I could find out anything.”

Stiles came up to stand next to him, and Peter tried to ignore how aware of his body he was. He was wearing nothing but his boxers, and his body was… distracting. Peter hadn't meant to do anything with him last night. He'd expected him to want to talk about something, what happened a few days ago, for example, but Peter smelled the lust on him as soon as he walked into the loft. He wasn't sure Stiles even realized that was why he was there. When he had kissed him, though, Peter kind of lost all control. It hadn't been like the kiss he had with Chris because it wasn't born out of anger, it was just  _ need _ . And that bothered Peter. 

“She masked her scent?” Stiles asked, oblivious to Peter’s internal thoughts.

Peter nodded. “The only reason I knew someone was here was because I heard her footsteps and heartbeat.”

Stiles frowned. “That’s strange. Why wouldn’t she just mask those too?”

“Invisibility is a powerful spell, scent-masking is a powerful spell. Doing both at one time would be extremely difficult, so my guess is she couldn’t physically do another spell on top of those two.”

“How did she even get away then? Wouldn’t she have been pretty weak from the magic?”

Peter gave Stiles a flat look. “Stiles, she was  _ invisible _ . I couldn’t tell where she was or what she was planning on doing.”

“Oh, yeah. Right,” Stiles said with a yawn. “Sorry, my brain isn’t quite awake yet.” He gave Peter a sleepy smile, one that Peter found extremely endearing. Peter averted his eyes and looked at the clock. It was six in the morning. 

“Don’t you have school soon?” He asked.

“Oh, shit, what time is it?”

Peter chuckled beside himself. “Six.”

Stiles bolted back to the bed. Peter followed. “Shit, shit, shit.” He grabbed his clothes from the floor and threw them on as fast as he could, but he was so uncoordinated that he tripped over his pants and fell right on his ass. Peter couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, shut up,” he grumbled at Peter.

“I would if you weren’t being so entertaining right now.” Stiles huffed and tried to stand back up, but he fell again. “Why don’t you just take a breath and try putting your clothes on a little slower? Maybe that way, you won’t fall over every ten seconds.”

Stiles shot him a glare that made Peter smirk. “ _ Maybe _ you could just  _ shut up _ .”

Peter rolled his eyes as he watched Stiles follow his advice anyway. Before he knew it, he was fully dressed. “Why are you in such a rush anyway?”

Stiles’ cheeks reddened. “My dad gets off at six. He’ll be home any minute.”

_ Oh, right, you still live with your parent. _ Peter looked over the boy standing in front of him. He looked a little disheveled, but for the most part, he seemed put together. It was really his skin that looked different. His lips were still swollen from their long kisses a few hours ago, and as Peter’s eyes trailed down Stiles’ neck, he found a small red bruise at the base of it. He couldn’t help but smile. “Just swing by and pick up some breakfast on the way home, and if he asks where you were, tell him you were getting him food.”

Stiles threw his head back and laughed. “Yeah, my dad wouldn’t buy that for a second. He’d be more suspicious if I try to cover up a lie than if I just lied.” Peter frowned, unsure if that actually made sense. “I’ll just tell him I went to Scott’s.”

He walked around Peter, then, and started heading for the door. He stopped a few feet away from it, and Peter heard a slight upkick in his heartbeat just before he turned and said, “So, uh, before I go… About last night. I didn’t really, uh, I wasn’t… Shit, I don’t know what I’m trying to say.” Peter waited as he stopped talking and obviously thought of how to phrase what he wanted to say. “Look, I’m sorry for what happened on Saturday. I didn’t mean to call you out, and I was just annoyed that you keep pretending like none of this gets to you, but I guess, I realize now that that’s just how you are.” Stiles gave him a small smile before adding, “And I know it’ll take some time for you to get adjusted, just like it’ll take time for Chris and me. And you were right. I was giving Chris a pass without ever giving you one, and that was wrong. So. I’m sorry.” He stood there for one awkward second before turning to go, but Peter couldn’t let him just leave after that.

“Wait,” he said quietly, but Stiles stopped. “You don’t have to be sorry.” Stiles turned back to face him, and Peter walked closer to him. “I egged Chris on because that’s what I do. He and I have always had that kind of butting heads relationship, and I guess there’s not much that can change that. And I egged  _ you _ on because, well, because it’s fun. I’m…  _ sorry _ . I didn’t really mean what I said.”

“What part?” 

Dammit, this kid wanted him to spell it out. “It’s not so much  _ what  _ I said, but  _ how _ I said it.”

Stiles eyed him warily. “Go on.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Stiles’ lips quirked up into a small smirk. “I need to make sure we’re on the same page.”

Peter clenched his jaw. That was the second time today that he had thrown his own words back into his face, and Peter was fed up with it. “Don’t make me wipe that smirk off your face, Stilinski.” The kid just grinned wider. Peter stepped closer. “Don’t think that I won’t.”

“You wanna get rid of my smirk? Tell me what you mean.”

Stiles continued to smirk up at him, and because Peter was as stubborn as they come and uttering the words  _ I’m sorry _ was already way out of his comfort zone, he reached out and pulled Stiles to him. His fingers dug into the front of Stiles’ shirt, holding him close. His smirk remained in tact. Peter smashed their lips together, and the boy just  _ melted _ against him. Peter  _ was _ going to go for something a bit rougher, something to get Stiles to lose his mind a little, but once his lips were on Stiles’, he lost all control of his thoughts and actions. This kiss was meant to make  _ Stiles _ lose control, not him. 

Peter pulled back, breaking the kiss and looking over Stiles, who had a dazed but pleased look on his face. Peter took a step back. 

“Well, that’s one way to do it,” Stiles said. “I really gotta go… I’ll see you later.” He gave Peter a small wave before turning and leaving.

Peter watched him go, and once he was gone, he turned his back to the door, trying to ignore how empty the loft felt now that he was alone.

*****

That day, Peter did some more research on the Nemeton as well as on invisibility spells. Full-body invisibility spells were used in a few types of magic, but he was pretty sure this witch was using traditional magic. The spell plus the ritual they’re performing all adds up to traditional. In some ways, that was a good thing. Traditional magic is the most researched and the easiest to predict. However, traditional magic is old, very, very old and difficult to weild. Meaning, these witches, or at least their leader, is very old and very powerful. 

To Peter, it seemed unlikely that a witch of that caliber wouldn’t know about the Nemeton and how to tap into its power. And yet, that night of the fire, it didn’t  _ feel _ like they’d tapped into it. Maybe they didn’t need to, or maybe they were just saving it for later.

The thought stewed in his brain for a while before he figured he should call someone. His first thought was Stiles, but he was still in school, as was everyone else. That left Chris… 

Sighing, Peter dialled the other man’s number and waited for him to pick up. It rang a few times before he did. “Hello,” Chris answered.

“I think I figured out a few things about the witches. Do you have time to meet?” Peter didn’t waste his time with niceties. He knew that if Chris thought this was about the case, he would be more likely to agree than if he thought this was something else. Which it wasn’t. 

Chris was quiet for a few moments before saying, “Yeah, I can come to the loft if that works.”

“Good. See you soon.”

“See you,” Chris said and hung up.

Peter set his phone aside and continued looking over his research as he waited for Chris to arrive. He didn’t get distracted by memories of last night, nor did he think about the cold look in Chris’ eyes the last time he saw him. He definitely didn’t think about Stiles’ hands on his skin or the feel of his lips on his own, nor did he think about how good Chris’ hands would feel, rough and calloused and  _ experienced _ . Nope. He definitely did not think about that. At all. No, his brain was filled with the Nemeton and witches and one was in his home and one could have hurt Stiles. 

_ Fuck _ , Peter thought. Sighing, he took a seat and rubbed his eyes. Surely, he was tired, and that was the reason why he was worrying about such idiotic things. The witches could hurt Stiles, why would he care? The boy had nearly  _ burned _ him to death. And yet, the thought churned his stomach, coiled it into unease. Truth be told, the thought of the witches laying a hand on Stiles made Peter want to wipe them out more than anything. What had gotten into him? He slept with him once, and what, now he was some lovesick teen? Peter shook his head at himself. What bullshit.

At that moment, a knock resounded through the loft. “Come in,” Peter yelled, knowing it was Chris.

Sure enough, Chris walked in, closing the door behind him, and took a seat at the table across from Peter. “So what did you find?” He asked,  _ still _ avoiding Peter’s eyes.

Instead of taunting him like he so badly wanted to, Peter dove into his findings. “I’m about 90% sure the witches are using traditional magic. The ritual we think they’re doing is very traditional and old, and the invisibility spell the witch used this morning was definitely traditional. It was full-body, and instead of it being a blending spell, where you blend into the background, she was actually invisible. And that kind of spell is really only found in traditional magic. Now, the scent-masking could be anything, but the invisibility spell was definitely traditional. Traditional magic is—what?” Peter stopped as Chris held up a hand with a frown on his face. 

“What invisibility spell?”

“Didn’t Stiles tell you?” Peter had thought Stiles would blab about the incident this morning.

“Tell me what exactly?”

“A witch broke into the loft this morning, and she masked her scent and used an invisibility spell. She got away, no one got hurt. Not that big of a deal.” Peter shrugged as a voice in the back of his mind whispered,  _ liar _ .

Chris’ frown deepened. “A witch broke in?” Peter nodded. “Why would Stiles have told me that?”

“He was here,” the truth fell from Peter’s lips before he could think of a lie.

Chris’ eyes jumped to Peter’s, the usual coldness nonexistent. “What, why was he here in the morning, he has—oh.” Realization filled Chris’ eyes right before he averted them. “Um, I need to, uh, was that all you had? If so, I think I need to go. I, uh, have an appointment that I forgot about. Um, call me if you have anything else to add, um, yeah.” Chris stood up and started to leave. He’d turned into a mumbling, embarrassed mess. Like Stiles. 

Peter smirked and said, “Chris, wait.”

Chris stopped and turned back to Peter. “What?”

Peter stood and walked over to him. “You don’t even know what happened. Stiles could have been here for completely innocent reasons.”

“Was he?”

“Well, no.” Chris huffed out a breath and shook his head. “To be fair, he jumped  _ me _ , not the other way around.”

“He’s a kid!” Chris pinched the bridge of his nose. “Did you maybe think about  _ not _ sleeping with him?”

Peter took a tiny step closer into Chris’ space, listening to his heartbeat pick up slightly. “You’d have slept with him too if you saw him looking at you the way he was me.”

Chris looked Peter in the eye and clenched his jaw. “No, I wouldn’t have.”

Peter leaned a bit closer. “Have you ever seen someone look up at you with a look of raw need? Have you ever smelled the pure lust rolling off someone’s skin? Have you ever heard someone beg you to touch him?” Chris swallowed and took a breath, but he didn’t need to speak to answer. Peter knew. “Of course not. Well, when you see that, when you smell that, when you hear that, you’ll be as powerless as I was. You’ll—”

Chris yanked Peter to him and kissed him. The action shocked Peter, and for a moment, he stood there unmoving. And then he reacted and kissed Chris back. The kiss was different than their first one because Chris was the one who instigated it, and it wasn’t messy and rough. It was…  _ good _ , that was the only word Peter could think of to describe it. Much like earlier with Stiles, Peter felt his control slipping the longer his lips were entangled with Chris’. He gripped Chris’ hips and walked him backwards until Chris was pressed up against a wall. Peter deepened the kiss, letting his lust take over, and he rolled his hips against Chris’.

Chris reached up and pushed against Peter’s chest, breaking the kiss. “No, no, I—I can’t,” he rasped out. “Not yet. I… I just can’t.” His head turned to the side, avoiding eye contact yet again.

Peter reached up, gripped his chin gently, and turned Chris’ head back to face him, forcing the other man to look him in the eye. “There’s nothing wrong with this, Chris,” he said simply.

“Stop calling me that.”

Peter frowned. “What, your name?”

Chris closed his eyes. “It doesn’t… You don’t call me that. You call me Argent or Christopher. When you call me Chris, it—it confuses me.”

He hadn’t even realized he did that. “Fine,” he said, stepping back slightly, only to give Chris some space. “What should I call you then?” Chris shrugged. “How about Chrissy? No, that’s terrible. Sweetie? Yuck, no. Hmm, what about my bittersweet tangerine? Wow, I’m bad at this.”  _ Am I fucking flirting with him? _

Chris shook his head and laughed. “Chris is just fine.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “You sure? I don’t want to go confusing you.” Chris licked his lips—a move Peter followed with his eyes—and nodded. “Chris it is then.” Peter stepped in again and gave Chris a small nip on his bottom lip before giving him a soft kiss. It was quick and soft and gentle, but it felt good all the same.

“Seriously, was that all you had?” Chris said after they’d broken their kiss and started walking back to the table.

Peter nodded. “For now.”

“Good. Well, I’ll spread the word.” 

“Thanks.”

Chris nodded, looking over Peter with assessing eyes. He looked like he wanted to say something, and just as he opened his mouth to speak, he cast his eyes down to the floor. “I also just want to say that I’ve been a dick.”  _ Well, that’s kind of like an apology. _ “I mean, you’ve been a dick too, but I’m the one who was one for no reason. I never,” Chris paused and sighed. “I never thought about your family and the fire, and I was an idiot to act the way I did.”

A small lump formed in the back of Peter’s throat at the mention of his family, but he swallowed it. “Is that an apology?”

Chris shrugged. “Something like that.”

Peter considered him, looking him up and down, but without seeing his eyes, Peter couldn’t tell how sincere Chris was. “Look at me.” Chris moved his eyes to his, and Peter was pleased the he was unable to find the usual hostility and coldness in them. “Well, then I suppose I can accept it.” Chris’ shoulders relaxed the slightest bit.

“Good. Um…” He trailed off, sounding uncertain. Peter frowned. “One more thing before I go.”

When he didn’t continue, Peter said, “Yes, what is it?”

“Friday night, I was thinking. Maybe you and Stiles and I could go get some dinner. I know this place with really good—” Peter held up a hand, cutting Chris off.

“I thought our plan was to keep it on the down low.”

Chris nodded. “It’s out of town. Just the next town over, so we wouldn’t see anyone from Beacon Hills, but it's not too far.” Peter nodded slowly.

“That might actually work. But I also thought we weren’t going to—”

“To date?” Chris asked. “We’re soulmates, Peter. We’ll have to start acting like it at some point.” Peter opened his mouth to argue again, but Chris beat him to it. “And you’ve slept with Stiles, and we’ve kissed, I’d say a date is a little past due.”

Peter narrowed his eyes at Chris. “What’s bringing this on? This new attitude is quite a change from three days ago.”

Chris shifted on his feet. “It’s actually  _ because _ of Saturday that I think this would be a good idea. The three of us are so different, yet… similar. We need to get our heads in the right place, we need to talk it out, and we need to get on the same page. Lashing out at each other isn’t going to do anyone any good. It’s time to be adults about all this.”

Peter rolled his eyes and sighed; he just  _ loved _ talking about his feelings. “Fine,” he grumbled. Deep down, he knew that Chris and Stiles would love to do this romance stuff. He’d never admit it, but he knew. “But I’m driving.”

Chris gave him a lopsided grin. “Good, I can break one of  _ your  _ windows this time.”

Peter glared at him, and Chris laughed. “Weren’t you going to leave?”

Chris clapped him on the back as he made his way to the door. “Sure thing. See you Friday.” Peter rolled his eyes again, though Chris couldn’t see him, and he heard the loft door slide closed a few moments later. He had a date. With his soulmates. 

Who would have thought?


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! I know you all have been looking forward to this, hope it reaches and exceeds expectations!
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos and comments! I really appreciate it!! 
> 
> Happy reading!

“Whoa, why are you all dressed up?” Allison sat on the couch with Scott’s head in her lap as they watched some movie on TV. She looked up as Chris came into the living room to put on his shoes.

“I’m not dressed up,” he said, deflecting her question.  _ Subtle, _ he criticized himself.

“Yes, you are,” she countered. “You’re wearing the nicest shirt you own  _ and _ your nicest jeans,  _ and _ to top it all off, you’re wearing that cologne I got you for Christmas.” 

_ Dammit, why is she so perceptive? _ “Yeah, I can definitely smell the cologne, Mr. Argent,” Scott chimed in, his eyes never leaving the TV.

“I’m just going out, isn’t that allowed?” He asked, a note of defensiveness seeping into his tone unintentionally. He’d finished putting on his shoes, so he walked over to the door to get his keys and leave when Allison gasped.

“You have a date!”

Chris turned around and shook his head. “No, I don’t. I’m just—”

“Who is it? Dad, come on, is this what you’ve been hiding?” She looked at him with a slightly pleading glint in her eye. It was a look she knew he was susceptible to, and he hated that she was using it now. 

He sighed. “I’m not telling you.”

She grinned. “Fair enough. I’m just glad you’re going out and doing something for once. Should I wait up?”

Chris gave her a flat look before saying, “Goodbye.” With that, he turned and left the apartment.

The door closed right as Allison yelled after him, “Good luck, Dad!”

He rolled his eyes as he headed down to his car to drive to Peter’s. The plan was to meet at Peter’s and then leave from there, and as he drove, nerves started to well up in him. He didn’t know why. A date wasn’t necessarily that nerve-racking compared to what he does for a living. But it had been a good ten years since he’d last been on a date. Maybe that’s why he was so nervous.

Stiles’ Jeep was parked outside of Derek’s loft as Chris pulled in, but Stiles was just then getting out of his car. He waited for Chris to get out instead of heading up to the loft immediately. Chris stepped out of his SUV and walked around the Jeep to greet Stiles. For a moment, he was rendered speechless by the sight. Stiles had dressed up, just as he had. Decked out in a nice pair of jeans and a slim-fitting button-down with the sleeves rolled up, and as Chris drew closer to him, he could smell the spice of his cologne. And damn, did it smell good. 

“Hi,” Stiles said, his eyes slightly widened as they roamed over Chris.

Chris smiled. “Hey. You ready to head up?” 

Stiles nodded, and up they went. When they reached the door, Peter flung it open before either of them had a chance to knock. He looked them both over and said, “Well, don’t you two look rather dashing.” Chris looked over Peter and noticed he wasn’t as dressed up, but he still looked good. He was wearing a black T-shirt that clung to his muscular body in all the right ways, as well as a nice pair of dark jeans. “Are you two ready to go, then?” He asked, reaching to the side of the door for his jacket and keys. 

Chris looked to Stiles, who nodded, before saying, “Ready when you are.”

Peter stepped out into the hall, pulling on his jacket, and his scent swam into Chris’ nose, infusing itself into his sinuses. It was so enticing, it ought to have been illegal for someone to smell as good as him. He raked his eyes over Peter as he closed and locked the door. Peter’s pants were tighter around the waist and butt, and Chris openly ogled him. In the back of his mind, he felt a twinge of shame, but he pushed it back. There was nothing wrong with liking the way his soulmate looked.

Peter sighed as he turned back to the two of them. “Would you two  _ please _ calm the fuck down? If I have to listen to your nervous heartbeats all night, then I’m calling this off,” he said as he walked past them and headed to the parking lot. Stiles avoided Chris’ eyes and followed Peter, and Chris followed him. 

When they reached Peter’s car, Stiles seemed to overcome some of his nerves as he yelled, “Shotgun!” Chris rolled his eyes at his teenage antics, and he caught Peter doing the same as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

With all of them piled into Peter’s car, Peter turned to Chris and said, “What’s this place called again?”

“Cupo di Lupo.” At Peter’s look of utter confusion, Chris reached for his phone. “Just let me type it in.”

Peter reluctantly handed his phone over to let him put the address into the GPS, and then they were off. Google Maps said it would take about an hour before they’d get there, and Chris wondered what in the hell they were going to talk about for an entire hour… or for the rest of the evening for that matter. 

Well, shit, he hadn’t thought this far ahead.

*****

The drive was long and awkward. None of them said much. Whenever Peter spoke, it was some snarky, sarcastic remark. And Stiles only spoke to call him out on it. Chris mostly observed as his two soulmates bantered with one another. He hadn’t seen them together since last week, or since they’d… you know. And it was interesting to see how their dynamic had changed. To an untrained eye, it seemed as if their relationship hadn’t changed a bit, but Chris noticed the subtle variances. The way Peter’s eyes left the road whenever they had the chance to look over at Stiles. The way Stiles’ arm rested awfully close to Peter’s, as if he weren’t in control of how drawn his body was to the other man’s. This development, perhaps, should have made Chris bitter and jealous, but instead, it brought him peace. Knowing that while he hadn’t been able to provide everything for Stiles and Peter, they’d sated themselves well enough with each other.

Finally, they reached the restaurant, and they all unbuckled and got out. Peter looked up at the sign and asked, “What’s it mean?”

“Wolf’s Den,” Chris replied. Peter gave him a look that clearly said,  _ are you serious _ , making Chris chuckle as he led the way inside. A hostess greeted him with a smile. “Hi, we have a reservation for three.”

She looked down at her clipboard and asked, “Name?”

“Argent.”

She scanned the list for his name and crossed it out when she found it. “Great. Mark, here, will show you to your table. Enjoy your meal.”

He gave her an appreciative smile before turning to the young man standing next to her. “Right this way,” he said, leading them into the heart of the restaurant. The place was abuzz with Friday night conversation. Couples, friends, families all sat, laughing, talking, and eating. It was loud, but not to an extent that was annoying. At least, not to Chris. He found this level of noise to be perfect. It was quiet enough that you didn’t have to yell over it, but loud enough that the entire restaurant didn’t hear what you were saying. “Here we are,” Mark said, placing menus on the table. “I’ll be your server this evening. I’ll let you three get settled and take a look at the menu. Is there anything I can go ahead and get for you?”

Chris shook his head as he took a seat at the corner of the table, his back to the corner of the room. “I think we’re good. Thank you.” With that, Mark nodded and left. 

Peter and Stiles took the other two open seats, and the awkwardness resumed. They each looked over their menus, none of them speaking. The silence resonated in Chris’ ears, and he shifted in his seat, uneasy. Of course, he was uneasy. He was currently sitting  _ in silence _ with Peter and Stiles, two people who never knew when to shut up. Stiles’ silence he could understand to a degree. He was a kid, probably on his first serious date, of course he’d be quiet. Peter, though… he didn’t know why he was so quiet. Unless maybe he was a little more nervous than he cared to let on?

With that thought on his mind, Chris decided to throw his own nerves to the sidelines and be the calm one. After all, he was a hunter who went up against much scarier things on a daily basis. “What are you guys thinking about getting?”

Stiles looked over the menu with worried eyes. “No idea,” he said. “All this stuff is like… jeez, a bowl of plain spaghetti is like twelve dollars. I can’t—”

“I’ve got it,” Peter and Chris said in unison. They looked at each other briefly before refocusing on Stiles.

“You guys really don’t have to. This place is expensive, and I don’t—”

“Stiles, let us pay for dinner. You don’t even have a job. Did you really expect us to make you turn over your savings for  _ one _ date?” Peter shook his head at Stiles as he asked his rhetorical question.

“Are you sure?” Stiles was  _ not _ easy to convince.

“Stiles, seriously, it’s no problem,” Chris said reassuringly. 

Stiles looked between them for a moment before nodding. “Okay, but I’ll get something small, just—” Peter cut him off again.

“Get whatever you want. You can even have dessert.”

“But it’s so expensive! I don’t want you guys to—”

“Stiles, how much do you think Chris makes a year?” Stiles shrugged. “I assure you he makes enough to pay for your dinner. As do I. Now, please, stop worrying about money and try to enjoy yourself.”

And that was that. Stiles made no more attempts to argue money. Chris was glad. This place was a bit on the pricey side, but it really wasn’t that bad. He supposed that just showed the economic disparity between him and Stiles, though. 

“I think I’ll get the linguini,” Peter said after a few moments.

“I’ve had that. It’s pretty good,” Chris said.

Peter hummed a  _ hmm _ , but he didn’t offer anything else. Stiles remained quiet, and Chris began to dread the coming silence when their waiter returned.

“Can I get you all something to drink to start?” He asked as he pulled out his writing pad.

Chris looked to Stiles to start them off. “Uh, I’ll have a coke,” he said.

Peter ordered next. “I’ll have a glass of the 1966 Bordeaux.”

The waiter then turned to Chris who ordered, “I’ll just have a water, thanks.”

The waiter jotted that all down before asking, “Are you ready to order, or do you need a few minutes?”

“I think we’re ready,” Chris said after looking to everyone else for confirmation. “I’ll have the chicken marsala.”

Mark wrote the order down and looked to Peter. “I’ll have the linguini with shrimp.”

“And, could I have the tortellini with red sauce?”

Mark nodded as he wrote down Stiles’ order, and then he collected their menus and left them. The somewhat awkward silence resumed. Chris watched as Stiles fidgeted with his napkin and utensils. He was so nervous, Chris didn’t need to hear his heartbeat to tell. He knew it must be driving Peter crazy. Shifting his eyes to Peter, his suspicion was confirmed. He pinched the bridge of his nose and clenched his jaw before muttering a curse under his breath. Peter reached over to Stiles suddenly and gripped his wrist. 

“Would you  _ please _ get control of yourself?” Stiles flushed and released his grip on the napkin and fork he was holding. Their waiter appeared, then, and Peter released Stiles’ wrist. He dropped off their drinks and left. Peter took a sip of his wine and smiled. “That’s good.”

“I’m not much of a Bordeaux person,” Chris said.

Peter raised an eyebrow. “No? What do you prefer?”

“I tend to like a good Napa wine over French.”

“Really? California wine always seems to be a cheap imitation of the real thing to me, but I suppose it  _ is _ an acquired taste.”

Chris opened his mouth to say something else, but Stiles cut in. “This is the most awkward, polite yet impolite conversation I’ve ever heard.”

Peter cut his eyes away from Chris’ to look at Stiles. “Polite yet impolite?”

“It sounds so… I dunno,  _ forced _ .”

“This is a date. That’s how conversations on dates work,” Peter said, an edge of condescension in his tone.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “But it’s not like we’ve never had a conversation before.”

“One could argue we’ve never had a  _ polite _ conversation before,” Peter wagered.

“Or even a  _ normal _ conversation,” Chris added.

“We’ve had normal conversations.”

“About what?” Peter asked.

Stiles opened his mouth, but his argument seemed to die on his lips as he came up blank.

Chris chuckled slightly. “Face it, Stiles. All the three of us have ever talked about was some way connected to something we were hunting, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but we might as well learn to talk about other things.”

Stiles nodded. “Makes sense. Can we at least talk about something other than wine? I can’t even pretend to contribute to that conversation.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Chris saw Peter roll his eyes, and he laughed again. “Sure.” 

It was quiet for a moment as Chris thought of something to say, something Stiles could talk about, and then Peter surprised him by saying, “I know everyone probably asks you this now, but are you planning to go to college?”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah, I’m applying to a few state schools, but I’m not sure when I’m going to start yet. I may take a year off to work and save up, or I might go to a community college for a year or two and then transfer. It all kinda depends on where the money falls.”

Chris could understand that. He had just started going over financial details with Allison, and while he made good money, the cost of college surprised him. It had gone up tremendously since he’d gone to school, and he couldn’t imagine trying to pay for it on a low income. “What do you want to study?” He asked.

“Criminal justice,” Stiles said a little sheepishly. “I’ve always wanted to do what my dad does, or at least something like it.”

“I would have thought living with a cop for eighteen years would have made you want to do the opposite,” Peter quipped, then he shrugged. “But I suppose it makes sense. You do have that annoying little voice in the back of your head telling you to do right.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t mean I always listen to it,” he said in a low voice, almost flirtatious, surprising Chris. He took a sip of his water to hide his unease and tried to push it down. 

Peter, on the other hand, smirked and leaned in close to Stiles, whispered something to him that Chris couldn’t hear, and leaned back, a satisfied grin in place on his lips. Chris both wanted and didn’t want to know what Peter had said to Stiles because it rendered him speechless. The poor kid sat there, his cheeks burning a bright shade of red, and stared a hole into the table. He didn’t look  _ bothered _ by what Peter said, quite the contrary. He looked excited, but maybe a bit uneasy as well. 

Chris tried to think of how this conversation, which had started with Peter asking Stiles about college for fuck’s sake, turned into this odd, sexual-tension-filled silence. Chris couldn’t wait until the food came out so that he’d at least have something to distract himself from the small bit of jealousy rising up in him.

*****

“Oh my  _ god _ ,” Stiles moaned. “This is so good, so, so,  _ so _ good.” He moaned again as he took another bite of his dessert. “This is honestly the best meal I’ve had in my entire life.”

Chris chuckled. “Good. I’m glad.”

“Don’t hog the dessert like you hog the covers,” Peter said, trying to pull the plate of tiramisu towards him. Stiles pushed it out of his reach, and Peter sighed.

“What? Is it too far for you to reach?” Stiles asked flirtatiously, a challenge in his voice.

Peter’s eyes narrowed before he gripped Stiles’ chin and pulled his lips down to meet his. Chris watched as Stiles went slack, a small whimper escaping between his and Peter’s lips. Then, he looked away as his stomach coiled. Their open intimacy bothered him not because of what they were doing, but because he wanted to join them. And it made him uneasy.

He heard labored breathing and turned back to find their lips separated. Peter pulled back slightly and said, “Mmm, good tiramisu.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and said, “Good wine.”

Peter smirked as Stiles placed the plate between them, and they shared the last bites of the dessert. Chris watched their odd, newfound intimacy with amazement. What happened to the Peter who’d said they wouldn’t fall in love? Clearly, he hadn’t gotten the memo.

A moment later, Mark, their waiter, returned with the check, which Chris settled without the other two even noticing Mark had come and gone and come again. “Are you two ready to go?” He asked. Stiles jumped slightly, as if he’d forgotten Chris was there, and nodded.

With that, Chris stood and left the restaurant, trusting his soulmates would follow behind him. He wasn’t sure he cared that much if they did or not, though. He just needed to get out of there, out of that suffocating room.

*****

The hour long car ride back to Beacon Hills was just as long and awkward, and this time, sitting in the back of Peter’s car, watching him and Stiles share a level of intimacy he hasn’t reached yet, Chris did not feel at peace. He felt jealous. Jealous that they were so ready and willing to accept that they were each other’s soulmates, or at least, each other's gender. Chris still thought about the kisses he’d shared with Peter, and each time, equal levels of desire and disgust rose in him, and he hated it. He hated that he felt that way. He wanted to want Peter, and he wanted to want Stiles without him feeling like he wasn’t a man for doing so. 

When they arrived back at Derek’s loft, Peter parked the car and asked, “Do you you two want to come up for a bit?”

“Sure,” Stiles said. “Dad’s got the late shift and thinks I’m staying over at Scott’s anyway.”

“Chris?” Peter turned to look back at him, waiting for a response.

Chris wondered what he should do. It seemed pretty clear that Stiles knew what he wanted in terms of going up to the loft, and Chris didn’t want to impose on that. It was also clear they wanted to be alone, based on what he saw at the restaurant. So maybe he was better off just going home.

“I’m beat. I think I’ll just go home,” he said.

Peter narrowed his eyes. “Come up for a nightcap, then you can go.”

Chris opened his mouth to argue, but Peter and Stiles were already climbing out of the car and heading up to the loft. Chris sighed and followed them up. As they entered the loft, Chris felt his heartbeat quicken upon the realization that a “nightcap” could lead to something more, and as much as he craved that, he wasn’t sure any of them were really ready for it. 

“How about some scotch? I believe I have some around here somewhere,” Peter said, rummaging around in the kitchen. 

Stiles took a seat on the table, ignoring the chairs surrounding it. He shrugged off his jacket and started working on the buttons on his shirt. Chris watched as his nimble fingers undid each button, one by one. 

“Ah, here we are.” Peter poured himself and Chris a drink and brought one to him. “Take it slow, Argent. This is expensive.” Then, he downed his own in one go, set the glass on the counter and walked toward Stiles.

It was then that Chris realized that in the week since he had last seen Peter, he and Stiles could have been seeing each other. And as Peter took Stiles’ face in his hands and kissed him, and as Stiles sagged against him, pulling him closer, Chris knew that that was the case. That one night hadn’t been enough apparently. And now they were kissing and touching in front of Chris. He now understood the point of his drink. He took a long swig. The alcohol burned in his throat, warming him up from the inside out. 

Peter pulled off Stiles’ shirt and ran his hands along his smooth torso. Chris watched his movements, stuck rooted to the ground where he stood twenty feet away. Peter then traced his lips down Stiles’ neck and across his chest. Stiles moaned, and Chris looked away. He shifted on his feet, growing equal parts uneasy and turned on. 

“Why are you looking over there?” Peter asked tauntingly.

Chris gritted his teeth and turned his gaze back to them, where Peter was watching him with a smirk on his face. 

“All the fun is happening over here.”

“ _ Peter _ ,” Stiles whined, not worrying about Chris at all.

“Hush,” Peter said gently. “Didn’t we want this night to be good for all of us?” He asked Stiles, who nodded. Chris frowned. Had they fucking planned this? “Right, so be patient.” Then, he stood and stepped closer to Chris. 

“I’m not—” Chris started.

“Just come here,” Peter said.

Chris clenched his jaw, set his glass down, and walked up to Peter, stopping about a foot from him. 

Peter smirked slightly as he reached out and pulled Chris closer by his belt. He stumbled forward, closing the gap between him and Peter. “There,” Peter said, “that’s better.” Peter then pulled his head down for a kiss. It started off soft and a little hesitant on Chris’ part, but it slowly turned into a deeper, more passionate kiss. Chris lost himself in the feel of Peter’s lips on his, and he threw caution to the wind as he gripped the other man’s hips and pulled him closer. Quickly, he gained control of the kiss and steered Peter backwards, towards the table. Peter hit the table, and Chris lifted him up and set him there. He ran his fingers along the bottom of Peter’s shirt before pushing the cloth up so that he could run his hands along the warm skin of Peter’s stomach. Peter groaned into the kiss, and Chris smirked, knowing he had this effect on him. He was—

A pair of hands ran along Chris’ back, and he broke the kiss to look behind him. Stiles, whom he’d momentarily forgotten, was behind him, running his hands up and down his back. Soon enough, his hands were running up underneath Chris’ shirt. Chris gasped at the feel of Stiles’ cool hands against his bare skin. It felt beyond good. He refocused on Peter and dove back in with a new fervor, kissing the other man hard on the lips. Peter worked open his button-down, and Stiles pulled it off. He pressed a soft trail of kisses down his back, leaving a line of goose-bumps in his wake. 

A cell phone rang loudly, breaking them momentarily out of their trance. Chris broke away from the kiss, wondering whose phone it was. “Forget it,” Peter said and pulled him back to him, but a moment later, another phone went off. 

Peter sighed as both Chris and Stiles stepped away from him and looked down at their phones. It was Allison calling Chris, and worried she might be in some kind of trouble, he answered, “Hello?”

“Hey, sorry if I’m interrupting…” She sounded wary.

He straightened up the slightest bit. “It’s fine. What’s up?”

“There’s been another witch attack.”

“Where?”

“I think over by the rec center. Dad, this one’s different… Someone died.”

“I’ll be there.” He hung up just as Stiles did.

Peter looked between the two of them, awaiting an explanation. “There’s been another attack,” Chris said.

“Nice to know everyone thinks I should be informed,” he quipped sarcastically.

Stiles pulled on his shirt as did Chris, and Peter tried to make himself look more presentable. Stiles had talked to his dad, who had the exact place where it happened, and gave the details to Chris and Peter as they walked down the steps to the lot behind the loft. 

“We should stagger when we leave,” Peter said. “Down-low, remember?” 

“I’ll leave first,” Stiles said. He paused before he climbed into the driver’s seat and said, “Thanks for dinner. It really was the best meal I’ve ever had.” Then he left.

That left Peter and Chris alone. He figured he’d give Stiles five minutes or so before he left. Peter walked up to him. “This wasn’t how I thought the night would go,” he said.

Chris huffed out a laugh. “Did you and Stiles plan my ambush tonight?”

“Ambush? Is that what you’d call it?” Chris rolled his eyes. “Yes,” he admitted. “He’s come over nearly every night since last Sunday. He felt bad that you weren’t included on all the fun. I assured him you didn’t mind, but he seemed to think you just didn’t know what you wanted.” Peter paused for a moment, then said, “Turns out he was right.”

Chris clenched his jaw. “Impulse and instinct took over.” 

Peter nodded. “Right.”

“I’m not saying I didn’t want to do what I was doing. I just wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t pushed me.”

Peter took on a defensive stance. “Are you saying I forced you into it?”

“No!” Chris hadn’t meant it that way. “No, I’m actually glad you… encouraged me. That’s a better word.”

“Good. Because we need to finish what we started.” Peter looked down at his watch. “Unfortunately, not tonight, though. You should go ahead and go. I’ll follow soon.”

Chris nodded, but he didn’t move. He stood there for a moment longer, wondering if he should do something before he left.  _ To hell with it _ , he thought as he stepped forward and gave Peter a quick goodbye kiss. At least, he tried to make it quick. As he pulled away, Peter pulled him back and planted a real kiss on him, making his knees weak.  _ Then _ , he was allowed to pull away and leave.

He left Peter standing outside the loft with a stupid, satisfied smirk on his face, and as he drove away, Chris shook his head and felt his own lips twitch up in happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try my best to post at least once a month, twice if I'm super motivated/have the time!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, wahoo! Let's see what those damn witches are up to, shall we?
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos and comments, they are much appreciated, even if I don't respond!
> 
> Happy reading!

Stiles drove to the rec center at a speed his father definitely would not have approved of. All the while hoping to god he didn’t smell too much like Peter or Chris. He knew this night was a bad idea. Hell, the past  _ four _ nights have been bad ideas. It’s a wonder Scott hadn’t noticed anything yet. It would only take one hint of Peter’s or Chris’ scent to tip him or any of the other wolves off, and he was so stupid to be so careless. 

But fuck it, tonight was fun. It was great. He’d had the best meal of his life,  _ and _ he was about to do the do with his soulmates. It really couldn’t get much better than that. 

Well, unless they hadn’t been interrupted. That definitely would have been better than the shitshow the witches were putting on.

He screeched to a halt in front of the police tape next to a few Sheriff’s cruisers and got out of his car, slamming the door as he did.

“Whoa, what’s up with you?” Parrish asked as Stiles walked under the crime scene tape. 

Stiles tried to get himself under control. “Just don’t like having my night interrupted by witches,” he said. “What happened?”

Parrish sighed as he walked farther into the crime scene. “Well, we’re not entirely sure. On the surface, this really doesn’t seem that different from any other crime, but we found this.” He stopped in front of a sigil on the pool deck, again painted in what appeared to be blood. It wasn’t the same as the sigil they’d found at the other scene, though. It was a circle with what looked like an A in the middle. “Do you know what it is?”

Stiles shook his head. “No, sorry.”

Parrish looked solemn for a moment, and then he said, “Not sure your dad wants me to show you what we found in the pool house…” Stiles looked over Parrish’s shoulder to the pool house where other deputies and crime scene techs were combing over every piece of the small shack. 

Stiles was about to just walk past Parrish and take a look when he heard a car door close, and he looked over to find Chris walking into the crime scene. He walked up to where Stiles and Parrish stood, but he barely spared a glance at Stiles. Instead, he offered his hand for Parrish to shake and said, “So what’s happened? Are Scott and Allison here yet?”

It was as if he summoned them with those words because they seemingly appeared out of nowhere behind Stiles. “Over here, Dad,” Allison said, scaring the living shit out of Stiles.

The small smirk on Chris’ face was the only indication that he saw Stiles jump at the sudden closeness of Allison’s voice, and unfortunately, that just made the tips of his ears hot. “Oh, didn’t see you there.”

“Sorry for interrupting your date. I just thought you’d want to come.”

Stiles choked on a laugh and began coughing very loudly.  _ Dammit, pull yourself together, Stiles _ , he thought to himself. He didn’t dare look at Chris, for fear of giving themselves away. “It’s okay. Why did you say this one was different? People died last time, too.”

Stiles focused on Allison, or at least tried to. He totally wasn’t sneaking glances at Chris out of the corner of his eye. “They died in the fire as a result of some spell, but this person—well, from what Stiles’ dad said, this person looks like he was just murdered. They weren’t going to call us, but then they found that.” She pointed to the sigil next to Stiles’ feet. Again, he looked down at it, and this time, he felt a surge of energy move through his body. It was odd, and he’d never really felt anything like it before. It was like a boiling heat that moved from the tips of his toes to the top of his head, and then it was gone. 

Chris stepped closer to Stiles to get a better look at the painted symbol, and his arm brushed Stiles’. Neither of them acknowledged the accidental touch except for taking a small step away from one another. Chris squatted down next to the sigil, studying it. “I feel like I’ve seen this before, but I’d have to look in my notes.”

For the second time that night, Stiles jumped at the sound of another’s voice. “It’s a sacrificial symbol. I was just looking at it yesterday.” Stiles whirled on Peter, who wore a loose, amused smirk. “Sorry, did I startle you?”

Stiles just cast him a glare and refocused his attention to the matter at hand. 

“Yes, that was it. I saw it in some of my uncle’s notes about a coven they tracked in the nineties. I’ll have to read more about what it means and what it’s used for, but at least we know where to look.” Chris stood but continued staring at the symbol.

Peter nodded, and Stiles caught him give Chris a once over before muttering, “Yes, we sure do.”

Stiles had the urge to punch Peter but settled for rolling his eyes instead. “So the sigil indicates sacrifice, and a body was found nearby… safe to say he was a sacrifice?” Stiles was thinking out loud when his dad walked up.

“It’s too early to say anything,” he said. “We’re rolling the body out now, trying to find an ID. You all should take a picture of the symbol, and then you should go. We don’t need all these people here. Parrish, I want you to go to the morgue and do your best to expedite the autopsy. I’ll meet you there when I can.” 

“Yes, sir. I’ll call you if I have any issues.” Stiles’ dad nodded, and Parrish left, leaving the rest of them alone with the sheriff. 

“Keep me updated on what you all find,” he said. “Now, go on. Too many people here already.” They all nodded or grunted some sort of agreement, and they started leaving. 

Stiles caught Scott and Allison whispering to each other in hushed tones, and after a moment, Scott fell into step with him as they left the crime scene. They stopped at Stiles’ Jeep. “You’re dressed up tonight,” Scott said with a little bit of suggestion in his voice.

Stiles shifted on his feet and avoided his best friend’s eyes. “Am I?”

Scott laughed. “Dude, were you on a date or something?”

Stiles shrugged rather than answer. He didn’t want to lie, but he didn’t want to tell the truth either. 

“Don’t worry, man, you’ll meet your soulmate eventually.” Scott’s words were gentle, but they sent a chill up Stiles’ spine. He hated lying to Scott, he really, really hated it.

“Yeah,” he released as a breath. “But it’s nice to pretend that I’m not lonely for a night.” He looked up at Scott, who gave him a pitying look. He hated that look.

“You want to hang out? I could come over for a little while if you want, play video games or something.” 

Stiles considered the idea for a moment as two figures came into his peripheral vision. He didn’t need to look to know that Chris and Peter were hovering, waiting to talk to him. Chris wouldn’t be close enough to hear, but Peter would. “Not tonight. I’ll be fine, just need some alone time.”

Scott nodded slowly and said, “Okay. I’ll see you later, then.”

“See ya,” he said as he watched his friend rejoin his soulmate and walk hand-in-hand with her back to her car. He looked away as a pang of jealousy and guilt hit his chest. Without further ado, he unlocked his car, climbed into the driver’s seat, and drove off, not sparing a second glance at either of his soulmates.

*****

He walked into his house as his phone rang. Looking down at it, he sighed and turned the ringer off. He trudged upstairs, and his phone buzzed with a text message as he reached the top landing. He threw it onto his bed as he passed his bedroom on his way to the bathroom. He turned on the shower, nearly as hot as it would go, and started shedding his clothes. Once steam started filling the room and fogging up the mirror, he stepped into the warm spray. His skin screamed from the contact, but after a few moments, he adjusted. For nearly ten minutes, he did nothing but stand under the hot water. Didn’t even think. Just stood. 

After that, his mind went into overdrive, and all he could do was think. Think about Chris and Peter, the witches, Scott and Allison, his dad, his mom, Erica, Boyd, the nogitsune, everything. He thought about everything, and he couldn’t  _ stop _ thinking. His breathing became more ragged, but it wasn’t out of control. Not yet, anyway. And he tried to think of something else, of something that wouldn’t cause him panic. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried, desperately tried, to think of something soothing.

Surprisingly, or maybe unsurprisingly, he didn’t know, Peter’s eyes flashed into his mind. And then Chris’. The two images came in and out of view in his mind, and as they did, his breathing slowed and returned to normal. Slowly, he opened his eyes and took a deep breath. Without actually showering, he shut the water off, and got out. Wrapped in nothing but a towel, he returned to his room.

Where a woman sat, perched on the foot of his bed. Stiles stopped dead in his tracks as the woman stood and said, “Hello, Mieczyslaw. We need to talk.”

“I don’t know who you are.”

She stepped into the little bit of light coming through the window, and it illuminated her face. She looked… sickly pretty, if that were even possible. Her skin was paler than the moonlight, and dark circles shadowed her dark eyes, but she still, somehow, managed to look pretty. “You don’t?” She asked in an almost condescending manner, her thick accent lacing the two words.

He shook his head but didn’t say anything. Maybe he was afraid, maybe he was starting to panic again, or maybe, just maybe, he couldn’t think about much else other than the fact that he was standing in front of a woman while he was in nothing but a towel. 

She smiled, then, and it looked cruel. Her extra white teeth contrasted with her bright red lipstick disturbed him in ways that contrast never had before. “Oh, Mieczyslaw, how you wound me. Don’t tell me you really don’t know who I am.”

Stiles swallowed a thick lump in his throat. He didn’t like being called by his first name— how did she even know his first name? “I, uh— look. I don’t know how you know my name, or what you’re doing here, but please—”

“I’ve known you since you were a child. How can you not know who I am?” She sounded sad and defeated, and really, it only made Stiles more uncomfortable. She moved closer to him, and he held his breath, afraid she would hurt him, but she only turned on the light. She stepped back, and he got a real look at her. To his surprise, she looked… familiar. “Do you know me now?”

He studied her face and tried to place it, tried to think of where he’d seen it before, but whenever he thought he found a memory of her, the face was blurry and gone before he could identify her. He looked at her for a long time before finally saying, “Who are you?”

Fury lit up her eyes. “How dare you ask me that question?” 

Stiles gasped at the intensity of her voice, which made his hair stand on end, and that’s when he remembered her. “But… but that’s impossible…”

Reading the recognition in his face, hers lit up. “Nothing is impossible. Haven’t you learned that?” Her voice had returned to its softer, almost condescending tone.

She looked so different in person. In all the dreams he’d had of her, she was tanned and healthy, full of life. Here, in flesh and blood, she looked… well, sickly pretty was still the only way he could describe it. “Why… How are you here?”

She laughed, a shrill sound that reverberated off the walls of his room. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m here for  _ you _ .”

His eyes widened as he remembered he was naked. “Um—”

“Oh, no, no, no. For  _ you _ , not for that.” He swallowed a thick lump in his throat. “Well, go on, get your things.”

He blinked. “What?”

She rolled his eyes at him. “Mieczyslaw, please, we don’t have time for this. Get dressed, collect your things, and let’s go.”

“But, I don’t even—”

“Tell me one more thing you don’t know, and it will be the last thing you ever speak.”

Stiles sealed his mouth shut, but he didn’t move to obey her commands until she had turned around. Then, he dropped his towel and hastily pulled on some clothes. After that, she turned back to him. 

“Have everything you need?” He cast a longing glance to the bed—bad idea—and she followed it. She saw his phone and laughed. “Oh, that? You won’t need that.”

With that, she turned him around and pushed him out of the room. He led the way downstairs to the front door, where he paused, wondering if there was a way for him to get away, a way that wouldn’t result in his death. But she opened the door and yet again pushed him over the threshold. A running car was waiting out front, and before Stiles could even think about running, the woman from his dreams gripped his bicep in a deathly grip and steered him into the backseat of the car. She got in next to him and told the driver to go. 

The car pulled out onto the street and began exiting his neighborhood. Unfortunately, that was the last thing Stiles saw before the woman beside him muffled his nose and mouth with a rag. A foul, chemical stench burned his nostrils for a few seconds, and then everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't kill me, it had to happen... Good news is, next chapter is in the works, so I *may* (emphasis on may) be able to update a little quicker!
> 
> Also, shameless self-promotion, if you wanna follow me on tumblr/instagram (where I'm more active), you can find me @thesherlockianwhojustcant! Feel free to message me on either, I love hearing from my readers!
> 
> Till next time,   
> ~thesherlockianwhojustcant


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shorter chapter, so hope y'all still enjoy!
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and comments, they're always appreciated!! XD

“Stiles is gone.” Peter heard the panic in Scott’s voice, but he was numb to its effects. “I—I can’t get a scent. I don’t—I don’t know what to do.”

The sheriff, Peter, Isaac, and Scott all stood in Stiles’ room. The place was a mess, but it wasn’t a mess born out of a fight. It was just a teenage boy’s mess. And it smelled too damn much like Stiles. Peter couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t think. It drove him mad.

“What about you two?” The sheriff looked at both Isaac and Peter. Isaac shook his head, making the sheriff turn to Peter with a pleading look. Peter inhaled deeply one more time, filled his nose with Stiles’ sweet, sweet scent, and released a growl of frustration.

“Nothing.” He ground his teeth together and balled his fists. If he wasn’t careful, they’d all figure out he was more upset than he was letting on. He honestly didn’t give that much of a damn about all that bullshit right now, but on some level, this wasn’t how he wanted Stiles’ family to find out about his soulmates. 

Thankfully, the sheriff and the other two wolves were too distracted to notice. The sheriff sank onto Stiles’ bed with his head in his hands. “The search dogs couldn’t find anything either. They tracked his scent outside to the curb, but then they lost it. I was hoping that somehow you would be able to smell something more.” He sighed heavily. “Dammit, Stiles.” He didn’t say it maliciously. It was born out of love and worry, nothing else, but it cut Peter to the bone. He needed to leave. He couldn’t stand the smell of Stiles’ room any longer.

“I have to go,” he said and made a hasty exit. Scott or someone or all of them—hell, he didn’t know—yelled after him, but he couldn’t really hear them. He left the house and got into his car, heading to the only place he could think to go.

*****

Peter all but banged on Chris’ apartment door, and when Allison answered, he should have stopped, but he pushed past her as she yelled “Hey!” and followed Chris’ scent to his study. He was sitting at his desk, looking over some old journals when Peter said, “Stiles is missing.”

Chris’ head snapped up, his gray-blue eyes meeting Peter’s, filled with instant worry. “What?”

“He’s missing.”

Allison spoke from behind Peter. “You know, I don’t think you should get involved, Peter. For all we know, you’re working with the witches and had something to do with it.” 

Peter turned on her, his eyes flashing and growled a deep, terrifying growl. Allison took a step back, terror filling her eyes. Chris jumped between them, facing Peter. “Peter, stop. She didn’t mean it.” Peter’s eyes moved to Chris’, and he didn’t flinch upon having Peter’s threatening gaze fixed on him. “Calm down, please.” Peter tried, but he wasn’t in the best control of his emotions right now. “Allison, go to your room, please.”

“Why don’t you just—”

“I said go to your room.”

She didn’t argue this time and left them. Once she was gone, Chris reached up and took Peter’s face in his hands. His touch was soft and gentle, something Peter couldn’t quite comprehend at first, but eventually, it soothed him and made him release his anger. He took a deep breath to regain control of himself. 

“What happened?” Chris asked in a level tone, stepping back and dropping his hands. How was he so calm?

Peter shook his head and said the three words he most hated saying. “I don’t know.” He shook his head again. “All I know is that we saw him six hours ago, and he was fine, and he was—”

“Peter, calm.”

“I am calm,” he said defensively. He hated how well Chris could read him. 

“You ramble like Stiles when you’re worried.” If Peter wasn’t crazy, that was affection in Chris’ voice.

“He’s gone. Left his phone, car, laptop. He’s just… gone.” He hated how lost he sounded, but damn, that’s how he felt.

“How do you know all this?”

“Sheriff called me, asked if I could get a scent. I couldn’t. I mean, I could get his, but I couldn’t track it, and I tried to get a scent of whoever took him, but…” He trailed off, allowing Chris to fill in the blanks.

“Are we sure someone took him?” Chris asked.

Peter gave him a level look. “Do you really think Stiles would run away without that precious car of his?”

“Guess not.”

Peter thought back to Stiles’ room. “It wasn’t that I couldn’t smell the person who took him. It was an  _ absence _ of a scent. I could tell someone had been there, someone who wasn’t Stiles, but I couldn’t smell them. Like they didn’t have a scent— _ fuck _ .” Understanding washed over Peter.

“What?”

“It’s that damn witch from my apartment, the one who broke in and masked her scent. I swear it has to be her.”

“You think a witch took Stiles? Why would the witches want Stiles?”

Peter shook his head. “I have no idea.”

Peter watched as Chris began to pace back and forth, a contemplative look on his face. After a minute or so, he stopped and gave Peter an odd look. “Wait, are you sure this is the same witch that broke into the loft?”

“Not entirely, but whoever was at Stiles’ place must have used the same kind of magic to mask her scent.”

“Ever find out what the witch took when she broke in?”

“Stopped her before she had the chance to take anything… where are you going with this?”

Chris’ brow was furrowed deeply in thought. “Maybe they took Stiles as a way to get to you—us.”

Peter frowned. “But no one knows about—”

“The witch who broke in does. She has to. He was there when she was.”

Peter felt like an idiot for forgetting that small detail. Stiles missing really was messing with his head. It felt like his brain had been taken out of his skull, put in a blender, and poured back in like a smoothie. “Shit.” He sighed heavily and leaned against Chris’ desk. “Shit, shit,  _ shit _ ,” he repeated. 

He felt Chris lean against the desk next to him, their hips brushing together. It was the smallest, least meaningful of touches, but it helped soothe Peter’s nerves all the same. “How the hell are we going to find him?”

An alarm went off in Peter’s brain. “Didn’t Stiles say his dad had narrowed down some possible coven members?” Chris nodded. “We need those files.” Suddenly, Peter had a burst of energy, and he was up, pacing around like Chris. “You need to get those files and see if you can find the coven, or at least one witch.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Try my best to track his scent. It was outside his house. I can follow it as far as it goes and continue in the direction he was heading when I lose it, and maybe I’ll catch it again.”

“Maybe? Peter, we can’t—”

“I have to do this, and you can’t stop me.”

Chris narrowed his eyes in that way he did when he was reading Peter like an open book. He thought he would comment on it, but when he opened his mouth, Chris just said, “Be careful.” Peter nodded and turned to leave. Before he made it out of the room, Chris said one more thing, causing him to pause. “Bring him home.”

Peter set his jaw and left the apartment. He went down to the street and behind the apartment complex. There, he shifted fully into his wolf and ran back to Stiles’ house. He was going to find him. He was going to find him.

_ He was going to find him. _


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got some chapters in the bag for this fic, so I can update more frequently! Woooo!!
> 
> A little more angst for ya! Hope you enjoy!

It had been four days.  _ Four  _ days. And they still hadn’t found Stiles. Peter hadn’t even been able to pick up his scent past the edge of his front lawn. Chris had gotten the files on potential coven members from the sheriff, but they all ended up being dead ends. Chris and Peter had done everything they could think of. Everything. And it wasn’t enough. Stiles was still out there somewhere, maybe even dead, though he didn’t think so. Chris’ stomach was in knots constantly, worried sick for him. Allison hadn’t been around much. She spent the majority of her time with Scott, but the past few days, she’d been spending nearly all of it with him, helping him cope with the disappearance of his best friend. Chris thought that was nice of her, but it just made the knots inside his stomach tighten.

They’d been so stupid, though. So, so stupid. Peter had mentioned Stiles left his phone, but he’d never thought to ask Peter what happened to the phone, and Peter never said anything about it. So he had forgotten about it. 

That was how he found himself sitting in front of Sheriff Stilinski’s desk, waiting for the sheriff to join him. He had called Chris earlier and all but demanded he come down to the station, and somewhere in his gut, Chris knew he had gone through his son’s phone and found some—probably odd—communication between him and Chris.

The door to the office opened, and Peter walked in. Chris straightened in his seat as Peter sat down in the chair next to him. They were silent until Sheriff Stilinski walked in. 

“Sir—” Chris stopped when the sheriff cast him a particularly menacing stare. Maybe it was best to stay quiet…

When he appeared to be satisfied that Chris wouldn’t speak again, the sheriff moved his eyes to Peter and said, “You gonna try to talk too?” Chris looked at him out of the corner of his eye, and Peter shook his head slowly. The sheriff gave them assessing looks and took a seat behind his desk. “I called you two in here today because I think you two are omitting pertinent information regarding my son’s disappearance.” Chris clenched his jaw. “You see, I thought it would be a good idea to go through his phone, see if he’d had any weird calls or texts from unknown numbers… Turns out they weren’t from  _ unknown _ numbers.” Chris remained silent and focused his eyes on the sheriff’s nameplate. He couldn’t bare to look this man in the eye right now. “Mr. Argent, why did my son text you at… 3:02 AM, the night of the fire?”

Chris sat up straighter and answered in a polite tone. “I believe it says so in the texts.”

Stilinski narrowed his eyes at him before shifting his gaze to Peter. “And you, why did my son call you at 2:57 AM the Sunday before last?”

“Well, sir, that would be between me and your son,” he said in his normal cocky tone, and in that moment, Chris wanted to punch him.  _ What an idiot. _

Stilinski stood up in a fit of rage, his eyes enflamed, his whole body screaming anger. He looked between the two of them before saying, “I’m going to ask you a question, and I want the truth. No bullshit from either of you. Are we understood?” Chris nodded and saw Peter nod along with him. “Are either of you— _ sleeping _ with my son?” Chris stayed silent as did Peter, but apparently, their refusal to jump up and deny it was answer enough. “Jesus! He’s a  _ kid _ . He’s my  _ son _ ! And you— you—” He broke off his statement with a groan of anger.

Chris tried to take hold of the situation. “Sheriff, please understand—”

“Understand what, exactly? That you’re sleeping with a boy who’s the same age as your  _ daughter _ ? Seriously, how could that ever be—”

“He’s our soulmate,” Peter said out of nowhere, successfully shutting the sheriff up. Chris watched as Stilinski’s eyes widened, and his mouth fell open. When he didn’t continue his angry tirade, Peter said, “Please, continue telling us how  _ wrong _ it is of us to care for your son.”

The sheriff looked back and forth between them for a long time before sighing and sitting back in his chair, head in his hands. “Let me get this straight,” he began. “You—” he said pointing at Peter, “and you—” pointing at Chris, “are  _ both _ Stiles’ soulmate.”

Chris nodded, and Peter added, “And each other’s.”

If possible, the sheriff’s eyes betrayed even more confusion. “How is that—”

“Possible? We don’t know. That’s why we didn’t tell you. But if you’ll excuse us, we have to go find your son.” Peter stood to leave, anger radiating off him, but Chris jumped up to stop him before he left, grabbing his forearm.

“Wait, we can’t just leave.”

“If you want to stay and explain to the sheriff how all of this works, including how Stiles and I  _ “work,”  _ then by all means, be my guest.” With that, Peter ripped his arm away from Chris’ grip and left the office, slamming the door behind him.

“Never pegged him for a drama queen,” Stilinski murmured. 

Chris chuckled despite himself. “You have no idea.”

The sheriff gave him a small yet awkward smile. “Go on. I don’t need to know all the gritty details about my son’s love life.” He sighed. “I think I just wanted to yell at something.”

Chris nodded, and without another word, he left the sheriff to be alone. As he left the station, Stilinski’s obvious disgust at the discovery of Stiles’ relationship with him ate at his mind, nawed on it like a lion eats its prey, only making his stomach knots twist tighter and tighter.

*****

It was nearly one AM, and Chris was dozing off at his desk when Allison came home. In any other situation, Chris may have gotten onto her for coming home so late, but he knew she had been with Scott, trying to find Stiles somehow, so he let her tardiness slide. He heard her tip-toe her way through the apartment, but as she neared the study door, her footsteps slowed. After a moment, she knocked softly.

“Come in,” Chris said with a yawn.

She poked her head in with a small frown. “Wow, Dad, this is like the fourth night in a row you’ve been up past midnight… So not like you. Are you okay?”

_ You mean other than the fact that one of my soulmates is missing? Yeah, I’m fine. _ “Just trouble sleeping.”

Allison nodded in understanding. “Scott’s really worried… I think he thinks Stiles might be, you know, dead or something… I don’t know. Usually, people who are gone this long, it’s not good, is it?” She sounded so young and so worried for her friend that her words broke Chris’ heart. She shouldn’t have to be going through this at such a young age. 

And as much as he wanted to lie to her and tell her that she was wrong, that she was just thinking about what they said on TV, he couldn’t. “No, usually, it’s not good.” He had to be honest with her so that he was honest with himself. He couldn’t lie to her because then, it’d be easy for him to lie to himself and disillusion himself that Stiles was completely unharmed. Somehow, he  _ knew _ Stiles wasn’t dead. He felt like if Stiles had died, he would have felt it… Or was that wishful thinking?

“...I don’t know. What do you think?” 

Chris looked up at his daughter who had been talking, but he hadn’t been paying attention, so all he could do was say, “What?”

She shook her head in false exasperation. “Get some sleep, Dad.”

He turned his head side to side and cracked his neck. Sleep sounded good, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to. “I will,” he lied. “Are you staying the night, or…?”

“Oh, no. I was going to grab a few things and then head back. Scott’s in a mood, and I think it’d be good not to leave him alone. Melissa has the night shift.” 

Chris nodded. “That’s good of you.”

She smiled a small smile as she turned to leave the study. He waited for her to get her things and leave the apartment before he called Peter, not even thinking about the time of night.

Peter answered on the fifth ring. “What?”

Chris rolled his eyes. “I need to talk to you.”

“Well, you are. What do you need?”

Chris clenched his jaw in slight agitation. Peter was being too hard on himself. Chris hadn’t gotten that much sleep the past four days, but he  _ knew _ Peter had gotten less, much, much less. “No, face to face.”

Peter huffed out a sigh. “I don’t have time for this, Argent. I need to—”

“You can spare an hour, Peter.”

Another huff of breath, then a, “Fine. I’ll be at your place in ten.” Then, he hung up.

Chris stood and stretched before retiring to his bedroom. There, he dressed down into comfortable sweats and a T. By the time he was done brushing his teeth, there was a knock on the door. He answered the door after looking out the peephole to make sure it was Peter, who pushed past him and stood, shifting uneasily, in his living room. Chris closed the door, locked it, and turned back to Peter. He raked his eyes over Chris, reminding him of the night after they’d found out about their soulmate status. He’d looked at him like that then too. Chris hid a small smirk to himself and, without a word, walked back to his bedroom. A moment or two later, he heard Peter follow. Chris pulled back the covers to his bed and flipped on the lamp on the nightstand. 

“What are you doing?” Peter asked.

“What does it look like? I’m going to bed.” Peter frowned at him. “And so are you.”

Peter’s frown deepened. “You said you wanted to talk.”

Chris shrugged. “I lied.”

“You booty-called me?”

Chris rolled his eyes. Peter could be such a one-track mind sometimes. “No. I don’t want to sleep with you. I just want to  _ sleep _ with you.”

Peter’s face shriveled up in confusion. “What?”

Chris sighed. “Neither of us is getting any sleep. I  _ can’t _ sleep, and I’m pretty sure you just  _ refuse _ to sleep, so I’m making you sleep, and I’m helping myself sleep because a warm body next to me might just help me fall asleep.” 

Peter shook his head, but he didn’t make any moves to leave or join Chris, who had just sat down on the bed. 

“We’re no use to Stiles if we can’t think straight. And we can’t think straight if we don’t sleep. So. Get in bed.”

With that, Chris got into bed fully and pulled the covers over him, reaching over to turn off the bedside lamp. A minute or two passed before he heard the rustle of clothing. He looked over at Peter, illuminated in the dim moonlight streaming through the window. He took off all his clothes, save for his underwear and climbed into bed with Chris. A moment of awkwardness passed between them. They laid on their sides, facing away from one another, a foot’s distance between them, but after a while, Chris still couldn’t sleep, so he turned to his back. A moment later, Peter did the same, and their biceps pressed against one another’s. A surging heat moved through Chris’ arm and made him feel warm and calm and safe all over. 

In another minute, they had both fallen asleep, their snores filling the silence of the dark room.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter! Woo!! I'd like to say this is the chapter when you get to find out what Stiles has been up to, but...

Someone shook Stiles awake, and as he blinked his eyes open, he was blinded by the early morning sun. He could hear something in the distance, something that sounded like yelling. Someone yelling his name, perhaps, he wasn’t sure. He tried to force his eyes to stay open and see who was above him, holding him, but his eyes wouldn’t listen. And a moment later, he fell back into darkness.

*****

Stiles’ eyes flashed open as he jerked awake. He sat up straight in bed, breathing heavily, and three nurses came rushing in at the incessant beeping from his heart monitor. He looked around him, confused. 

“I’m fine,” he said. The nurses didn’t seem to hear, or they didn’t care because they continued checking his vitals until they were satisfied, and they finally left. 

As the last nurse walked out, his dad walked in. “Hey, kid, how you feeling?”

“Fine, I guess… what happened? Why am I here?”

His dad frowned slightly. “I came home from a shift, and you were passed out on the front lawn. Couldn’t get you to stay awake.” Stiles vaguely,  _ vaguely _ remembered waking up to someone shaking him, but he had no concrete ideas about who that person was or where he was. “Do you remember anything from the past five days?”

Stiles swallowed. The past five days…  _The ones I spent waiting until you went to work so that I could jump Peter? _ “I mean, school and homework and stuff… what? Why are you making that face?” His dad looked at him with a furrowed brow and pitying eyes. 

“Stiles, what’s today?”

“Um, Saturday? Why? You’re kinda starting to freak me out, Dad.”

“Today’s not Saturday. Today is Wednesday.”

Stiles frowned. “What? No, that’s impossible. Yesterday was Friday!” All his dad did was shake his head solemnly, and just as he was about to open his mouth to argue the day with his father, Scott and Allison walked in, followed by Lydia and Parrish.

“Oh my god, you’re not dead!” Lydia squealed, seemingly more relieved than anything else, and ran up to crush him in a hug. 

He hugged her back and said, “Can’t get rid of me that easy.”

She pulled back from him and rolled her eyes before she made way for Scott to give him a hug too. After that was done with, everyone started telling him how happy they were he was okay and how they wanted to know what happened. Scott and Allison even started spouting off theories of how they thought witches had kidnapped him and tortured him for information, but as it seemed, Stiles was more or less unharmed. A few scrapes and bruises—and amnesia, apparently—but other than that, he was fine.  

Stiles must have been outwardly portraying how overwhelmed he felt because his dad said, “Hey, maybe we should let him rest.” There was a collective  _ of course _ sound from the small group of Stiles’ friends, and they slowly trickled out the door. 

After everyone had left, Stiles asked, “Did, uh, did anyone else come to see me?”

Stiles’ dad gave him an odd look, one he couldn’t quite read before his eyes widened slightly as if he’d forgotten something. “Oh, crap,” he muttered as he pulled out his phone and left the room, completely ignoring Stiles’ question.  _ What the hell kind of reaction was that? _ Stiles thought. His dad was gone for a few minutes, and when he returned, he seemed… uneasy? Uncomfortable? Awkward? Stiles couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“What?” 

His dad released a sigh. “While you were gone… I went through your phone to see if there was anything there that could help us find you.” Stiles didn’t immediately put two and two together, so he waited for his dad to elaborate. “And I found your texts with Mr. Arg— Chris.” Stiles felt the blood leave his face. “And your late-night phone calls with Peter.” Now his face felt very, very hot. “And I confronted them about it.”

“You—you… you  _ confronted  _ them?” 

His dad nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me you had met your soulmate? Or that you had more than one?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because they’re—I don’t know. Chris is like your age… It’s just kinda weird. Or it  _ was _ . I’ve kind of come around to the idea now. And Peter isn’t that much younger, plus he’s  _ Peter _ , and I knew you aren’t really the biggest fan of either of them, and I didn’t want you to think that—I dunno. I have two soulmates. Doesn’t that make me kind of a freak? I mean, you’ve known that for a while now, but have you  _ really _ known until now? I just—” 

His dad held up a hand with an amused and exasperated look on his face. “Stiles, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to dig into your business, but—”

“But I  _ was _ missing, so I’ll excuse it.” He gave his dad a smile, which his dad returned.

“I’m glad you’re okay. I really am… Peter and Chris will be here in a few minutes.” Stiles nodded as if to say  _ okay _ , and then his dad asked, “Does anyone else know?”

Stiles shook his head. “No. Well, I mean, Lydia found out that I found my soulmates and that I have more than one, but I didn’t tell her who they were.”

His dad nodded his head in understanding. “Well, I think you should tell everyone else soon. You can’t hide this forever, and the longer you wait, the harder it will be to tell them.”

Stiles sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

His dad’s cell phone went off, then, and he looked down at it then back at his son. 

“Go on, I know you have things to do, people to save.”

His dad smiled. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Stiles gave him a smile as his dad left the room. A moment later, he felt his smile fade. What the hell had happened to him? Had witches really taken him and wiped his memory or something? Why couldn’t he remember?

He swallowed as a thick lump formed in his throat, trying to get rid of it, but it didn’t help. His throat constricted, and he couldn’t breathe. Was any of this real? Why couldn’t he remember the past four days? The last time he couldn’t remember days at a time, he was— _ no _ , he thought,  _ I can’t think about that _ . But already, he felt lost, alone. Like he was in that room in his mind, locked away. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think. He couldn’t  _ feel _ . And it was all too much. He closed his eyes and pressed the heels of his hands against them until he saw colors. It didn’t help much. He gasped for breath and threw his hands down to his lap. His vision was clouded with tears as he blinked his eyes open. He let out a sob, trying to take in a deep breath, but it was shaky and didn’t quite reach his lungs. 

Suddenly, there was a warm hand on his arm and one on his shoulder blade, rubbing gentle circles into his skin. Now,  _that _ helped. He looked up at the person next to him, finding Chris with a pinched brow and worried eyes. 

“Stiles?” He said gently. 

“Is this real?” He asked him so quietly, he wasn’t sure he’d actually said it.

Chris nodded urgently. “Yes. This is real, completely real.”

“Why can’t I remember what happened to me?” He sounded so small and young, even to his own ears.

Chris shook his head and said, “I don’t know.”

“Am I me?”

“Of course.”

“How do you know?”

“You’re just gonna have to take my word for it, I guess.” With that, he pulled Stiles into a comforting embrace, and Stiles relaxed into it, into  _ him _ . His warm, spicy scent filled his nose and calmed him. 

Slowly, Stiles came back to himself. He regained control of his breathing and his mind, and he took a deep, settling breath. Chris released him and took a step back. Stiles looked around him and found Peter, standing in the doorway, barely inside the room. He was frowning slightly, and his jaw was tense, but his eyes raked over Stiles as if inspecting every possible detail. 

“How do you feel?” Chris asked from beside him, and he moved his eyes back to him.

“Not great. I can’t remember what happened, and after a panic attack, I always feel weird.”

Peter stepped farther into the room and stood at the foot of his bed. Stiles looked him over again and found dark circles under his eyes. He shifted his gaze back to Chris and found them under his eyes too. They both looked exhausted.

“You don’t remember anything?” Peter asked. Stiles shook his head. “That’s unfortunate.”

“The last thing I remember is coming home and taking a shower, but I don’t even remember getting out of the shower… Next thing, I’m being woken up on my front lawn.” It was quiet for a few moments before Stiles remembered something. “Wait! Can’t you do that thing?” He asked Peter, who rose an eyebrow. “You know, that thing with your claws?”

Peter frowned. “What?”

Stiles groaned. If his own two soulmates couldn’t understand him, what was the point? “Ugh, you know that memory thing, where you put your claws into someone’s neck and you can see their memories? Can’t you do that?”

Peter shook his head with an amused expression on his face, presumably because of Stiles’ repeated usage of the word “thing.” “I could, but you have no memories of what happened to you.”

“Maybe I do! Maybe they’re just hidden from me, or something. We all know I don’t have actual amnesia. It was some sort of spell. Maybe your claw memory thingy can break it.”

Stiles watched Peter and Chris exchange a look he couldn’t quite read before Chris sighed. “I guess it couldn’t hurt to try,” he said.

Peter shrugged. “We can try, but it may not be very… pleasant.” Stiles nodded and was about to say that he didn’t care as long as he could remember, but Peter continued before he had the chance. “I may not be able to control what I see, so that may mean you showing me things you don’t want to.”

Stiles paused at that one. Peter was his soulmate, and he may be developing some kind of feelings for him, but he was still… Peter. And he wasn’t sure how much he wanted him to be snooping around in his brain. Then again, he was his soulmate, and if things continued to improve, and they continued to become closer to one another, as they have been, there’s nothing in Stiles’ past he wouldn’t tell him. At least, he didn’t think so. Stiles thought of how to phrase that thought process so that Peter would understand and make sense of it. 

Finally, he said, “I trust you.”

Something flashed across Peter’s face, too quickly for Stiles to be able to decipher it, before he nodded his agreement to perform the ritual on him. “Argent, watch the door. We don’t want any nurses to come in for this.” 

Chris rolled his eyes at Peter’s use of “Argent” and went to do as he was told. Peter drew the curtains around Stiles’ hospital bed so that people passing by couldn’t see what was going on, and then he came to stand next to Stiles. 

“Sit up,” he said, and Stiles sat up a little straighter than he had been. “This is probably going to hurt, so just… crank up the pain meds if you have to. Try not to scream.”

Those last four words were anything but comforting, but Stiles tried not to let it show and settled for a nod. He gripped the bed sheets to prepare himself for Peter’s claws. He felt Peter’s hand move to hover over the back of his neck, and he closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to come. But it wasn’t there at first. Peter brushed a gentle line down the center Stiles’ neck with his un-clawed fingers before he did anything else. Then, without warning, he plunged his claws deep into Stiles’ neck. The sudden pain made Stiles want to yelp, or even scream, but he didn’t. He just gripped the sheets more firmly and waited for it to be over. 

At first, nothing happened, and he wasn’t sure it was going to work, and then his vision started to cloud and he could see his feet climbing up the stairs of his house. He watched as his memory of that night played out in front of him. On the edges of his vision, he could see the hospital room, but in the foreground, it was like he was back in his house the night he went missing. He got in the shower, started having a panic attack, relaxed, and then… it went black. He couldn’t see anything. He heard Peter mutter something under his breath, but he couldn’t make it out. Then, Peter pushed his claws in deeper, and Stiles couldn’t stop the small yelp that escaped his lips. The pain was excruciating. Stiles almost wasn’t sure if it was worth it anymore.

But then his vision began to come back, slowly, and unclearly, but it was coming back. Soon enough, he was stepping out of the shower, drying himself off, and walking back to his room… where a woman sat waiting for him. She started to speak, but Stiles couldn’t hear her. At some point, she turned on the light, illuminating her features, and Stiles gasped.

She was gone. Stiles’ room was gone. He was left sitting in the hospital room, Peter standing beside him, panting slightly. Stiles’ eyes were wide and unseeing. 

“Did that work? Do you remember anything?” Peter asked from beside him, but his voice sounded quiet, dampened as if he stood behind a barrier. Stiles remained silent.

“Who was that woman? Do you know?”

Stiles shook his head once.

“Do you remember why she took you?” Peter asked urgently.

Stiles nodded but still didn’t say anything.

“Why, Stiles? Why did she take you?”

Stiles looked into Peter’s eyes and said, “So that I could bring you to her.”

Peter had just managed to look shocked as Stiles placed his hand on Peter’s forehead, and he slumped to the floor unconscious. Undoubtedly recognizing the sound of a body hitting the floor, Chris rushed in, and before he had any time to react, Stiles flicked his wrist in his direction, causing him to fly back against the wall, hitting it hard and falling to the floor knocked out as well. Stiles sighed as he pulled the heart monitor and the IV from his body. He stood up and stretched before pulling on his clothes sitting in a neat pile next to his bed. 

Once he was dressed, Stiles hauled Chris’ body over to Peter’s, and he tied their wrists to one another’s with his belt. Holding onto their jointed wrists, Stiles muttered foreign Latin words, and with a flick of his wrist a portal opened on the wall opposite him. He dragged Peter and Chris over it as he crossed. 

There, the High Priestess greeted him. “Oh, Mieczyslaw,” she said, caressing his face. He leaned into the touch. “Such a good boy. Thank you.”

“Of course, Babka.”

“Now, we may begin.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't meant to make y'all wait this long for the update, but better late than never, I guess! Hope you all enjoy!

Peter jerked awake and immediately felt a sharp pain in his wrists. It took him a moment to take in his surroundings and understand them, but once he did, he couldn’t help but sigh. His wrists were tied behind him, and he sat against a wooden post. He looked next to him, hearing another heartbeat, and found Chris, tied up similarly to him. Blood dripped down the side of Chris’ face, but it looked mostly dried. 

What the hell had happened to Stiles?

Peter looked around the small room. It was barely big enough to house Chris and Peter. The floor was cold and bare and a little sticky; it smelled like rotten fruit, and Peter gagged from the intense scent. It was dark, too, only a small sliver of light coming from around the door. Peter was close enough to Chris that he could touch him with his foot, so he gave him a little kick, just hard enough to wake him up.

Chris groaned as he woke up, Peter assumed from pain. It took Chris a moment to look around the room before settling his eyes on Peter. “What’s going on?” He whispered.

Peter shook his head. “Stiles must have brought us here.”

“Yeah, what the hell was that about?”

“No idea. The witch that took him must have him under some sort of spell.” Peter paused and thought about it for a minute.

“But  _ he  _ used magic,” Chris spoke Peter’s thoughts aloud. “No spell would give him the power to wield magic the way he did.”

“What did he do?” Peter hadn’t seen what happened to Chris. Only knew what he’d done to him.

“I’m not sure exactly, but he did something to push me back against the wall, hard enough to knock me out.”

“This isn’t good,” Peter sighed. 

“No,” Chris agreed.

They sat there for a moment in silence, both thinking over what had happened. The silence was broken for Peter after a few minutes as he heard footsteps approaching. 

“Someone’s coming,” he hissed urgently.

They both knew well enough to slump back into a pretend-sleeping position as the locks on the door began turning. When the door opened, light flooded the room, and Peter could feel it against his skin… were they outside? Someone was dragged into the room and dropped in front of Peter. Then, the door closed and locked again, and the people outside walked away. 

Peter opened his eyes and stared at the easily-recognizable, unmoving form at his feet. “Stiles?” He whispered, but it wasn’t loud enough to wake him. He gave him a soft kick like he did Chris earlier, and Stiles jerked awake. He pushed himself into a sitting position and scrambled back against the door quickly. He was hyperventilating, and though it was dark in the room, Peter could tell he was shaking too.

“Stiles?” Chris tried.

Stiles jerked his head up in Chris’ direction. Through the dark, Peter could see a frown on Stiles’ face, one that deepened as his eyes moved to Peter.

“What are you guys— how did you find me? Did they— oh my god. You guys came looking for me, didn’t you? Didn’t you— and now you’re stuck here with me. Oh god, I’m sorry—”

“Stiles,” Peter cut him off. “You brought us here.”

Stiles’ eyes grew wide. “I  _ what _ ?”

Peter and Chris glanced at each other before focusing back on Stiles. “You brought us here. Knocked us out using magic and—”

“Magic?” Stiles yelled. “ _ I _ used magic?” Peter nodded. “That’s impossible. I don’t know how—”

“You mean you don’t remember anything?” Peter asked, annoyance lacing his tone.

“Hey, go easy on him, he’s obviously scared,” Chris said.

Peter rolled his eyes. “For now,” he said. “Stiles, what happened? What do you remember?”

“I, uh, I remember coming home from the crime scene, and I was in a mood, so I took a shower, and then…  _ she _ was there and she took me and now I’m here.”

Peter sighed. He still had no memory of the past four days. “Do you know who she is?” Chris asked. “You said she like you knew her.”

Stiles was quiet for a few moments before whispering, “She’s in my dreams.”

“What does that mean?” Peter asked.

Stiles shook his head. “I’ve dreamt about her since I was little. The dreams were always different, but she was always there, and she always protected me.” Peter frowned. “I used to have nightmares about monsters and stuff, and she would swoop in and protect me. Always.” 

“But she’s not in your dreams now,” Peter said slowly. 

“No,” he said. Peter could hear the distance in his voice; Stiles was somewhere else, maybe in shock. “She’s not.”

“How is that possible?” Chris mumbled.

“She’s not imaginary,” Stiles said. “She was real. She was a real person.” Stiles paused. “She was my great-grandmother.”

Peter shook his head. This was just great. “Your great-grandmother is a witch?” 

“Apparently.”

“And she’s still alive?”

“She died when my mom was little.”

“But she’s the one who took you?”

“Yes.”

“So she’s not dead.”

Stiles sighed. “She’s not alive either.”  _ Well, what the hell does that mean? _

“What does she want with us?” Chris asked.

Suddenly, the door to the room opened, and a woman answered Chris. “Oh, you’ll see, Hunter. You will see.” A woman stepped into room. She was tall and pale, sickly almost. Peter watched her as she walked over to Stiles and caressed his cheek. He leaned into the touch, and he was gone. No longer Stiles, but her slave. “Come now, Mieczyslaw. We must leave. My girls will make sure they’re taken care of, don’t worry. They’ll be perfect for the festival.”

Stiles nodded and stood up to follow the woman out of the little hut. She left first, and Peter watched her disappear around a corner. Stiles followed robotically, but he paused at the door, turning his head slightly and glancing at Peter, before leaving them in the darkness.

Maybe he wasn’t all gone.

*****

At dusk, someone came for Peter and Chris. Unfortunately, she was prepared for Peter’s werewolf abilities because before untying him, she gagged him with a hex bag full of wolfsbane, rendering him completely useless. She untied him from the post and re-tied him up with ropes, also laced with wolfsbane. Once she was confident Peter couldn’t and wouldn’t do anything, she moved on to Chris. He, however, wasn’t as easily subdued. Being human, there wasn’t some magical herb that weakened him, just drugs, and Peter got the impression that they needed their bodies clean of toxins for whatever they were planning. As soon as she was close enough, Chris kicked her. The witch grunted in pain and stepped back, muttering something under her breath. Peter couldn’t make it out, but after a few repetitions of it, Chris started to shiver and jerk as if he were seizing. 

Something burned in Peter at the sight, made him pull and struggle against his bindings, as pointless as it was. He found himself powerless as he watched one of his soulmates writhe in pain, and he wanted nothing more than to wipe out all of these witches right then and there. But he couldn’t. And  _ damn _ did he hate that. 

After a few agonizing moments, Chris slumped forward, apparently unconscious, and the witch gagged him and untied him before retying him like she had Peter. Then, she called out for someone. “Lorna! They’re ready.”

Another woman came in and looked them over. She smiled as she poked her head out the door and spoke to someone outside the hut. A moment later, two men walked in. One took Chris, and the other took Peter. Peter tried to resist the man as he picked him up and carried him bridal style, but the wolfsbane made his efforts futile. The men carried them out of the hut and into an open field. It was dark out, but the sky was still striped with orange and pink from the sunset. 

In the center of the field, a circle of women stood, waiting for them. The men carried Chris and Peter through the circle, and Peter saw what they all stood around: an altar. It was tall and wide, large enough to hold two fully grown men lying down. The woman who had collected Stiles earlier, presumably his great-grandmother, stood behind it with him. Peter had a bad feeling about this. This was not good. Not good at all. 

The men placed Peter and Chris side by side on the altar. Peter immediately looked over at Chris, who was slowly blinking his eyes open, waking up into their current nightmare. Once he recognized his surroundings, he tried to get out of his bindings, but it was pointless. The men who had been carrying them moved to Chris and tied his feet down on the altar before tying his hands above him so that he was splayed out in an X. They then did the same with Peter—probably even had an easier time doing it since the wolfsbane was still affecting him. Then the men backed off and joined the circle around them.

The woman spoke from behind the altar. “Tonight is the night we have been waiting for. My nephew has provided us with soulmates whom we can bleed for our cause. The blood of soulmates is the strongest, and it will strengthen us tonight!”  _ Not good, not good. _ “Lock the circle, everyone.” Out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw the witches around him join hands, prompting him to try to get out of his binds again, but he couldn’t. He was weak and useless. He couldn’t do anything.

Stiles’ great-grandmother began speaking again. “Star Goddess, hear our prayer. Accept this gift from us, and let us ask a favor.” The circle around them repeated the prayer in unison. “Accept this gift of unwavering love, and let us ask a favor.” 

“Accept this gift of unwavering love, and let us ask a favor,” the circle repeated.

“Accept this gift that represents true kinship, and let us ask a favor.” 

“Accept this gift that represents true kinship, and let us ask a favor.” 

“Accept this gift from us, and let us ask a favor!”

“Accept this gift from us, and let us ask a favor!”

Suddenly, the wind picked up, blowing cold against Peter’s exposed skin. Stiles’ great-grandmother began muttering something under her breath in what sounded like Latin, but Peter really couldn’t make it out. She came into his view above him, holding a knife. A very, very big knife.  _ Dammit, this is not how I want to die. _ The wind blew harder, even started whistling, and Stiles’ great-grandmother closed her eyes and spoke faster, still quiet, but seemingly more intense. When she opened her eyes, they were nearly completely black. Her pupils had expanded into her irises, so no color remained in them, just the whites of her eyes and her big, black pupils. She stared down into Peter’s eyes before slicing a long horizontal gash along his forearm. The pain was excruciating, and he couldn’t help but scream out, though muffled by his gag. A burning sensation worked its way up Peter’s arm. He could feel it crawling into his bloodstream and infecting it. The knife was coated in wolfsbane, which apparently was this coven’s favorite herb. Once she’d sliced Peter, she moved to Chris, and without cleaning the blade, she sliced Chris’ forearm as well. He, too, yelled out in pain, but he held out longer than Peter had.

“Accept this sacrifice, and let us ask a favor.” The circle repeated her words, and Peter waited for something to happen.

For a moment, everything was still. Peter swore he couldn’t even hear a cricket’s wings. It was completely silent. Nothing happened. Minutes went by, and nothing happened. After maybe five or six minutes, Stiles’ great-grandmother was back, muttering in Latin again. The wind picked up again, blowing hard and loud. She cut his wrist again, and he yelled out. She cut Chris again, and he yelled out too. She yelled to the sky, “Accept this sacrifice, and let us ask a favor,” and her circle repeated it. But still, nothing happened.

Peter had been cut twice with the wolfsbane blade; he was tied up with wolfsbane ropes, and he was gagged with a hex bag full of wolfsbane. If he didn’t get help soon, he wouldn’t last much longer. He could feel it. The silence around him unsettled him. It should never be as quiet as it was, no insects, no birds, no wind, nothing. Pure silence. It shouldn’t be possible, but here they were. Obviously, part of the witch’s ceremony worked, but some part of it didn’t. Peter really didn’t care, though; all he knew was that if she cut him again, he’d be done for.

Suddenly, Stiles’ voice broke the silence, “Babka, if you’re not careful, you’ll kill him.”

And just like that, pure silence was gone. Peter could faintly hear nightly bugs buzzing and an owl hooting. It was like he broke the spell. “So?” Stiles’ “babka” asked.

“The ceremony won’t work if he dies,” he said. His voice sounded steady and robotic, but underneath it, Peter could hear a small tremble in his voice, one that betrayed his true feelings.

“You dare question my methods?” 

“No, Babka, I’m just—”

“If we don’t do this now, we’ll be waiting another month and a half for this night to come. It has to be now.”

“What if you didn’t need them?” Stiles said quietly. Peter groaned around his gag, trying to warn off Stiles from saying what he thought he was going to.

“Sweet child, what do you mean?” Babka’s ability to go from threatening to creepily sweet gave Peter chills.

“You could use the Nemeton.”  _ No! _ Peter wished he could punch Stiles in the mouth. Why would he ever give her that information?

She laughed. “A Nemeton? Here in this poor excuse of a town?”

“I’ll take you to it.” Peter groaned again. What in the  _ hell  _ was Stiles doing? “But you have to stop this. It’s obvious it isn’t going to work, and if you keep trying, you’ll kill them, which you said would make the ceremony fail.”

She was quiet for a moment, and then she said, “You take me to it first. Then, they can be let go.”

“But—”

The sharp sound of skin slapping against skin resonated through the air. “You will do as I say, or they will both die right now.” 

“Yes, Babka,” he said quietly.

“Let’s go, then, Mieczyslaw,” she said sweetly. Peter heard them walk away and saw the circle around them break to let them through, but he couldn’t see where they went or what they did. After a few moments, the pain swimming through his veins finally caused his eyes to droop, and he passed out into a deep, blank sleep.

*****

Peter drifted in and out of consciousness for what seemed like hours, maybe even days. It felt as if his body were being burned from the inside out, the wolfsbane eating him away bit by bit. At times, the pain was so bad, he passed out. Other times, the pain woke him up. And that was how he spent those hours, lying on the hard, wooden altar.

Finally, around dawn, someone untied him. That alone seemed to strengthen Peter the slightest bit. Then, he was un-gagged, and that helped tremendously. His entire body still throbbed with pain, but he felt a little bit stronger. Peter managed to open his eyes enough to focus on the person untying him and Chris, and he found Stiles doing so quickly and frantically, throwing worried glances here and there.

“Can you help him?” Stiles asked Chris.

“Yeah, I got him,” he said. 

Peter could tell they were talking about him, and he tried to say that he didn’t need their help, but he couldn’t seem to open his mouth to actually say that… Maybe help wasn’t the worst idea. Chris helped Peter into a standing position, which was much harder than Peter thought it would be. Standing hurt like a bitch. Stiles led them to a black sedan with heavily tinted windows at the edge of the field. It wasn’t on a road, but there were tire tracks leading away from the field and hopefully into civilization. Getting to the sedan was not fun for Peter. He kept stumbling and grunting from the pain, but he and Chris eventually made it there. Stiles helped them into the backseat, laying Peter down across the seats. It was packed in the back, but it was better than being chained to an altar. 

Stiles closed the door, and the driver took off.  _ We’re free _ , Peter managed to think before passing out with his head in Chris’ lap.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, y'all. Here's the next chapter. Finally. It took me so long to write this chapter; I've been so busy and tired and writer's block is a thing for some reason. Anyway, finally finished it, so hope y'all enjoy! 
> 
> As always, thanks for the kudos and comments, they really brighten my day!
> 
> Also, the stuff about wolfsbane in this chapter was pulled from Teen Wolf canon, witch lore, and straight out of my ass, so enjoy that.
> 
> And last but not least, this is about 2x longer than my typical chapter, so you see why it took me so long.
> 
> Happy reading!

“Turn around,” Chris heard himself say. He knew they should keep going, keep driving, with the shape Peter was in. But he couldn’t just leave Stiles.

The driver looked at him in the rearview and said, “I only go where the Priestess tells me. Not my passengers.”

Chris sighed and leaned his head on the back of the driver’s seat as he reached down and subtly pulled the laces from his left shoe. He always kept them loose for this exact reason, and once he had the foot-long string detached from his shoe, he sat back up, sighing again for effect. 

The driver focused back on the road, and Chris made his move. In the blink of an eye, he had the shoelace around the driver’s neck, and he pulled the man’s head back against the seat as he gasped for breath. The car jerked slightly, but since they were on a deserted, unpaved off-road, they weren’t in any real danger of getting into an accident.

“Turn around. Now. Or you’ll be dead in thirty seconds.”

The driver nodded, and Chris loosened his hold. The man gasped and took deep, life-saving breaths as he turned the car around and headed back to where they’d left Stiles. They had only gone a mile or so down the road, so it didn’t take long for the field to come into view again, and thankfully, Chris could spot Stiles’ retreating silhouette easily. The driver stopped where he was before, and Chris jumped out of the car, running after Stiles. 

“Stiles!” He yelled out.

Stiles turned around quickly and ran back towards Chris. When he reached him, he pushed Chris back as hard as he could. “No! Get out of here, leave!”

“Not until you come too.”

“Chris—” Stiles broke off as he tried to push Chris back towards the car again, but Chris didn’t budge an inch. He released an annoyed puff of breath. “If I leave, she’ll—”

“She’ll what? Stiles, you can’t stay here.”

“And you can’t waste any more time! Peter needs help. Now go!” Stiles turned to storm off, but Chris grabbed his forearm tightly, halting him in his tracks. 

“Not without you.” Stiles looked back at him with a worried expression on his face. “Stiles. Please… don’t make me leave you here. I can’t. Peter would be furious when he wakes up.”

Stiles clenched and unclenched his jaw. “She’ll come after me.”

“Better than her already having you.”

Stiles sighed but didn’t say anything. 

“Peter needs you. Please.” Chris knew that was a low-blow, but he hoped it would work anyway.

Finally, Stiles relented. “Fine. But for the record, I tried to let you guys get away safely.”

“Noted.” 

Chris and Stiles jogged back to the sedan, and when Stiles climbed in the front seat, the driver frowned but chose not to say anything. They drove off again and actually put this place in their rearview this time. 

About fifteen minutes later, the driver pulled over to the side of the road and said, “Get out.”

“Wait, what?” Stiles asked, disbelief in his tone.

“This is where I drop people off. Now get out.”

“You can’t be serious!” 

“Get out!” The driver yelled, and Stiles stopped arguing. He quickly got out of the car and rushed to help Chris with Peter. 

Peter stirred in Chris’ lap, but he was still out of it. Chris helped Stiles get Peter out of the car, and then the driver drove off, barely leaving time for them to close the door. “Do you have a phone?” Stiles asked.

Chris patted himself down with his free hand, coming up with nothing. He shook his head. 

“Dammit,” Stiles swore. Stiles patted Peter down and sighed a sigh of relief upon finding a phone in Peter’s back pocket. “Thank goodness,” he said.

“Who are you calling?” Chris asked. 

“My dad,” he said, putting the phone up to his ear. “Yeah, Dad? It’s me… I know, I know, but I’m okay… Yeah, I need your help. Peter’s hurt, and we need to get him to Deaton and fast… No! Don’t… don’t bring the others. Just you… Yeah, well now wouldn’t be the best time to tell them now would it?” Stiles shook his head, and Chris waited for him to get off the phone. “Okay, okay. Yeah, I’ll share my location with you… See you soon.” Stiles hung up and fiddled around on Peter’s phone for another minute before refocusing on Chris. 

“He’s in bad shape,” Chris said. “I’m not sure if Deaton can really help him—”

“He’s our best shot,” Stiles cut him off. 

Chris just clenched his jaw as he looked over Stiles. The boy seemed more than a little agitated, and his eyes almost never left Peter. They worked their way up and over him time and time again as if he were hoping to heal him with his eyes. Chris wanted to comfort him somehow, but he didn’t know if Stiles would be receptive. So the two of them stood on the side of the road, supporting Peter. It was deserted wherever they were, and not a single car drove by them in the time they spent waiting for the sheriff to arrive. 

About twenty minutes after Stiles had gotten off the phone with his dad, Chris heard sirens, and before he knew it, the sheriff pulled to a stop before them. He hopped out of the driver’s seat and opened the back for them to get Peter inside. Stiles got in first and guided Peter in by his shoulders; he ended up with his back against the door with Peter’s torso against his own. There wasn’t much room in the back, so Chris got in the front seat, and the sheriff drove off.

“Hang in there,” Chris heard Stiles mumble. He turned to look back at his soulmates. “Please,” Stiles whispered, pressing a kiss to Peter’s forehead. “Hang in there.”

Chris clenched his jaw and faced forward again, catching a glimpse of the sheriff watching the pair in the rearview mirror. A moment later, Chris felt the car pick up in speed.

*****

As they pulled into Deaton’s veterinary hospital, Chris unbuckled and said, “I’ll go in first, make sure no one else is here.”

The sheriff and Stiles both nodded, and as soon as the car was parked, Chris was out and jogging to the entrance. A bell above the door chimed as it opened, and Deaton yelled from the back, “Just a moment!” A few seconds later, he emerged with a woman, who was holding a small dog. “Now remember to give him the medicine twice a day.”

The woman nodded and said, “Thank you, Dr. Deaton.”

“You’re welcome. Have a great day!” 

She smiled and waved as she finally exited the building, giving Chris the opportunity to fill Deaton in. “Peter is infected with wolfsbane, we need your help.”

Deaton frowned, but nodded all the same. “Bring him around back.” 

Chris nodded and jogged out to tell Stiles and his dad. He jumped back in the passenger seat and said, “Around back.”

Without hesitation, the sheriff put the car in gear and drove around the back, where they found Deaton waiting for them. He had just propped the door open when Chris got out to help Stiles with Peter. Deaton’s face darkened at the sight of him, and it twisted Chris’ gut. 

“Just take him straight to the examination table,” he called after them. 

Chris and Stiles carried Peter to the table and then lifted him onto it. His skin appeared pale and clammy in the harsh light, and black veins branched out from his cut. 

“I need some space,” Deaton said calmly, making his way towards Peter. Both Chris and Stiles took a few steps back at the same time. Deaton lifted Peter’s cut arm and asked, “This is where he was exposed?” Chris nodded. “How long?”

Chris thought for a moment. “It’s been about fifteen hours.”

“Hmm.” That didn’t sound good.

“What? What does  _ hmm _ mean?” Stiles asked, worry and sarcasm lacing his tone.

“It means that the wolfsbane has likely already spread too far for me to treat it. See these black veins? They’re indicative of the poison taking full effect on his bloodstream. His blood is turning against him, and soon, he’ll—”

“You’re an emissary, aren’t you?” Stiles screamed. “Don’t you  _ have _ to help him no matter what?”

“Stiles, it’s not that simple,” Deaton tried.

“Treat him!  _ Try _ , for god’s sake! You can’t just give up on him!”

Deaton remained calm—how, Chris had no idea. “Stiles, there isn’t anything I can do for him now, except to ease his pain.”

Chris saw the punch coming before Deaton and the sheriff, but there was nothing he could do to stop it since he was on the opposite side of the room. However, he could pull Stiles away before he got another punch in. 

“You bastard!” Stiles screamed as Chris held him back. “You’re not even going to try? You’re so fucking pathetic!” He lunged toward Deaton again, but Chris held him off.

“Stiles, come on, calm down,” Chris murmured. 

Stiles pushed  _ him  _ off and yelled, “ _ Calm down _ ? Seriously? He’s  _ dying _ , and you want me to  _ calm  _ down?!”

Chris wanted to shout and scream in response to Stiles, he really,  _ really  _ did, but he couldn’t. So, clenching his jaw, Chris replied in a calm and even tone, “Yes, I want you to calm down because if you don’t, there’s no way you’ll be able to heal him.”

“What?” Stiles and his father jinxed each other.

Chris turned to Deaton instead of answering the Stilinski’s. “How long do you think he has?”

Deaton, holding his wounded nose, considered the question for a moment before answering, “Estimating about fifteen hours since exposure with the appearance of black veins, I’d say he has about eight more hours.”

“Okay, then. I’m giving you eight hours to keep him alive. Ease his pain if you can, but  _ keep him alive _ .” Chris turned to Stiles. “You, come with me. We need to calm you down and find a healing spell.” Stiles just looked at him dumbfounded. “Don’t deny it, Stiles. You have magical abilities; it’s in your blood. So let’s use them.”

His words seemed to give him a boost of confidence, and he nodded. “Okay.”

Chris turned to the sheriff. “Can you stay here with him? Call us if he gets worse?”

Stiles’ dad looked between him and his son a few times before nodding stiffly. “Sure, fine. Be careful.”

Chris nodded before leading Stiles out of the vet’s office and out to the parking lot. “Come on, not a long walk to my place.”

*****

It wasn’t until they got to Chris’ apartment that he realized how bad of an idea it was. As he patted down his pockets for his keys, hoping against hope the witches hadn’t taken them, the door swung open, and Allison stood in the doorway, her eyes wide with surprise.

A brief moment of shocked silence passed before Allison threw her arms around Chris and said, “Dad! We were so worried, are you okay?” She stepped back and looked him over with worried eyes, eyes that quickly zeroed in on his cut arm. She gasped. “Dad, you’re bleeding, oh my god. Come inside. I’ll get you a bandage.”

“No, no, Allison, I’m fine. I promise. The blood is mostly dry by now,” Chris said urgently, following her into the apartment as she went to grab medical supplies.

“By now? When did this happen?”

Chris locked eyes with Stiles out of the corner of his eye before looking away and not saying anything.

“Maybe twelve hours?” Stiles said.

“ _ Twelve  _ hours? Where have you guys been?” Chris didn’t like the look in Allison’s eyes. Sooner or later, she was going to put some things together. She was too smart.

“Kidnapped,” Stiles deadpanned. 

“Well, I know that,” Allison said, reapproaching them with a first-aid kit in hand. She grabbed for Chris’ wrist, and he jerked away from her touch, suddenly remembering it was the wrist where his soulmark used to reside. However, Allison persisted and managed to snag it on her second try. 

“Allison, I said I was okay—”

“Dad, just let me clean it up at least.” She started wiping away the dried blood with a cold alcohol wipe. When it touched Chris’ wound, the alcohol sent stings up his arm, but he may as well have been numb to it because a moment later, Allison paused and said, “Um, Dad? Where is your soulmark?”

Chris clenched his jaw and swallowed a lump in his throat before saying, “It’s gone,” and pulling his wrist out of her grasp. “Now, please, Stiles and I are on a tight schedule, and we need to—”

“Who is it? Why didn’t you tell me? Why haven’t I met them? —”

“Allison!” Chris’ sharp yell silenced his daughter. “Please. This is not about you. I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t ready and I agreed to keep it quiet. So please. Let Stiles and I do what we came here to do.”

With that, Chris stepped around Allison and went to his study, Stiles on his tail. He closed the door after Stiles came in and sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. He shouldn’t have been so harsh to Allison just now, but Peter doesn’t have time for him and Stiles to have it out with her right now. And he definitely doesn’t have time for Chris to think about it endlessly. So he straightened up and walked over to the bookshelf. 

“Start on that end, I’ll start on this end,” he said to Stiles, not meeting his eyes. “Pull out any spell books and pile them up. Then we’ll go through them and see what we can find.” Chris started looking through his half of the bookshelf and pulling spell books out.

“Chris—”

“Stiles, I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just find a cure for Peter, okay?”

Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Stiles nod. “Okay.”

*****

It took them maybe ten minutes to go through all the books on the shelves and find all the spell books. Then about an hour to sort through the spell books from helpful to non-helpful, and they were left with four, decently-lengthed books, which they were both now combing through to find a spell. It had been almost three hours since they started looking at spells, and they’d only gone through one book completely.

Suddenly, Stiles groaned and slammed his book closed. “Ugh, this is pointless! We’ll never find a spell in time.”

“Don’t say that. Come on, we’ve still got about four hours.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Like that’ll be enough time.” He sighed and put his head in his hands. “God, what if Peter dies, Chris? What will happen to us?”

“He’s not going to die,” Chris said as he closed his book and crawled over to Stiles. “I promise. We just need to go through these books, and I’m sure we’ll find something. Please don’t give up.”

Stiles dragged his hands over his face and nodded, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. Okay. Let’s do this.”

Chris waited until Stiles had opened up his book again and started reading before he resumed reading his own book. He remained next to Stiles, though, their knees brushing one another as they sat criss-crossed on the floor, for no other reason than he thought it would help Stiles.

About thirty minutes later, Chris was trying desperately not to doze off but failing when Stiles gasped, successfully jolting Chris out of his stupor.

“I found it!” He pushed his book into Chris’ lap.

Chris looked over the inexplicably simple spell Stiles placed before him and nodded. “Yeah, I think that might work.”

“Do you have the ingredients, or should I check with Deaton?”

Chris read over them again. “Looks like I have everything except the charcoal. Why don’t you call Deaton while I grab the other ingredients? Tell him we found something.” Stiles nodded as Chris got up and went out into his apartment to find what they needed. 

In a matter of minutes, Chris and Stiles were ready to go. 

“Deaton laughed when I asked if he had charcoal, said I’d be surprised how much he uses it. Also said that Peter is shifting uncontrollably and they had to restrain him. Also I don’t know if I can do this, and I’m freaking out, but I’ll either succeed or die trying, so let’s go!” Stiles informed Chris as they headed out the door.

Allison had long left, gone to Scott’s, Chris assumed, so they didn’t have to worry about running into her again. They took the elevator down to the parking garage and practically ran to Chris’ SUV. Chris peeled out of his space and headed to Deaton’s. He may have ran a few lights and sped a little bit, but they got there quickly, and before Chris even had the car in park, Stiles was jumping out and rushing inside. Chris quickly followed suit. 

They went into the back room, where they found Peter laying on a table, restrained and Deaton and the sheriff standing over him. Peter didn’t look good— pale skin, dark veins, cold sweat. All around awful looking.

“I had to give him a sedative,” Deaton said as Stiles moved toward the tabe to start preparing for the spell. “So even if this works, he may not wake up for a while.”

Stiles nodded. “You have that charcoal?”

And they got to work. Chris helped mix some of the ingredients—mustard, warm water, salt, and crushed charcoal—while Stiles studied the incantation, saying the words out loud, trying to nail the pronunciation. Deaton helped him with that since he knew Latin, and the sheriff… well, the sheriff just stood off to the side and watched, unable or unsure of what to do to help. 

“Are we ready?” Chris asked the group once he was done mixing the ingredients. Stiles took a deep breath and nodded, nerves eating up his eyes. “Tell us what to do.”

Stiles chewed on his bottom lip in that way he does when he’s nervous. “Dad, Deaton, can you give us the room?”

The sheriff nodded and started leaving with a reluctant Deaton on his tail. 

Once they were alone, Stiles started the ritual. “Okay, the book says to force him to drink the concoction you made, so… I guess I’ll hold his mouth open, and you’ll pour it in.”

Chris nodded and walked to the table with Peter, Stiles standing on the opposite side. He pried Peter’s mouth open and nodded at Chris to give him the go ahead, and Chris poured the mixed ingredients into Peter’s mouth. The muddy-colored liquid slowly drained from his mouth, indicating it went down all the way. 

“Now what?” Chris asked. He hadn’t actually looked over the spell that carefully and didn’t know what to expect. 

“Now, he’s—” Stiles was cut off by Peter making a loud gagging sound. “Turn him on his side! Turn him, turn him!” Stiles freed one side of Peter’s restraints, and Chris quickly pulled Peter onto his side. Vomit spilled out of him and onto Chris’ shoes. 

“Little warning next time, please.”

Stiles winced. “Sorry… I didn’t know it’d happen that quick. We have to purge his system before we do the spell, or it won’t work.”

“So can we do the spell now, then?”

“Yeah, yeah, turn him back over.”

Chris followed Stiles’ directions and laid Peter back on his back. Peter’s head lulled to the side, little bits of vomit dripping down his chin. A month ago—hell, a  _ week _ ago, had Chris found Peter in this position, he may have laughed or smiled or simply wouldn’t have cared, but now, somehow, he did. He couldn’t bare the thought of losing him. Just the thought sent a searing pain through his chest that he didn’t think would ever heal if Peter were to die. He looked up at Stiles, who had started murmuring the Latin phrases under his breath over and over, his eyes closed as he concentrated, and he found he felt the same way about Stiles. If Stiles were in the position Peter was in right now, that same pain would surely permeate his body. 

After a few minutes, Stiles stopped his chants, stumbling backwards. Chris rushed to support him. “Well, I definitely did something,” Stiles muttered. “Even if it didn’t work.”

“Is it done?” Chris asked.

“No, one more thing. I need a flame so that I can burn the wound. It’s the last part of the spell.”

Chris remembered “lighter” being on their list of supplies, and he rushed to get it. He brought it back to Stiles. Stiles lit the lighter and held it against Peter’s still-open wound. Soon the air filled with the scent of burning flesh.

“Ideally, the flame would be much larger and hotter,” Stiles said. “But we work with what we have.” He held the flame to Peter’s arm for a moment longer before extinguishing it and saying, “There. It’s done.” He looked at his watch. “We’ll know in an hour if it worked. By then, most of, if not all, the black veins should be gone.”

Chris nodded in understanding. He looked Stiles over, worried he might be weak from performing magic. “You should go sit.”

Stiles shook his head. “Not leaving him.”

Chris released a breath somewhat like a sigh but without the exasperation. “I’ll be right back,” he said as an idea came to him. He went out to the waiting area, where Deaton and the sheriff were sitting. They both looked up at Chris’ approach. “We’ll know in an hour if it worked. Sheriff, if you need to get back on patrol, you can. No need for you to be here unless you want to be.”

“I’ll stay,” he responded simply.

“Deaton, do you have any snacks?” Deaton frowned at the question, but nodded all the same.

“Vending machine around the corner, there.”

“Thanks,” Chris said as he went to go find it. He bought Stiles a chocolate bar and an orange juice before finally returning to him. 

Stiles had pulled up a stool next to the table and laid his head down next to Peter’s shoulder, his hand absent-mindedly stroking Peter’s hair. Chris smiled sadly.

“Here.” Chris plopped the orange juice and the chocolate bar on the table in front of him. “You need to get your sugar up.”

Stiles nodded and sat up straight, reaching for the candy bar first. Chris pulled up another stool next to Stiles and waited. The hour seemed to drag by, and eventually, Stiles laid his head back down and started to doze off. Chris felt his eyes droop too; it had been a very,  _ very _ long day afterall. He was just  _ barely _ starting to fall asleep when he heard Peter cough, effectively jolting him and Stiles awake. 

Peter coughed a few more times, the sound wet and gross, before he groggily mumbled, “What the hell?” He blinked his eyes open, and Chris heard Stiles draw in a sharp breath. “Why was I untied from one table and brought to yet another table and tied down again?”

Stiles released a half-sigh, half-laugh of relief and said, “Because you were shifting uncontrollably, dummy.” Then, he planted a very soft kiss on Peter’s lips. One that Peter returned briefly.

“So can I be untied now, then?” Peter asked, breaking away from Stiles.

Stiles just smiled and nodded and began working on his restraints. Meanwhile, Chris watched on, a sense of relief and happiness flooding him. His soulmate was alive—and both of his soulmates were safe, for how long, he didn’t know, but here they were in front of him, caring for one another. 

“God, this table is uncomfortable,” Peter complained once Stiles had finished untying his restraints.

Chris rolled his eyes. “Sorry it isn’t a five star hotel. We were a little busy trying to save your life.”

Peter sat up—with Stiles’ help—slowly, wincing at the pain, but Chris still recognized that coy glint in his eye. “Well, I would have settled for a three star since my life was on the line.”

Chris couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Why don’t you settle for your bed back at the loft and just be grateful you’re alive?”

“I guess that’ll have to do.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Let’s get you out of here,” he said, helping Peter stand. 

Chris got on the other side of Peter and helped Stiles walk him out to his SUV. Passing Deaton and the sheriff on the way out, he said, “Thanks for all the help. We’re going to take him home.”

“Call you later, Dad!” Stiles called as they exited and headed for the parking lot.

They got Peter situated in the back, and Stiles crawled in next to him as Chris hopped in the driver’s seat and headed to the loft. A few minutes into the car ride, both Peter and Stiles fell asleep, and Chris smiled softly, watching them in the rearview mirror.

*****

“You know, I  _ do _ know how to untie my shoes,” Peter said as Stiles and Chris took off his shoes while he sat on the foot of the bed. 

“Yes, but can you bend down without puking?” Chris quipped. 

Peter remained silent. Stiles shared a knowing glance with Chris and smiled. Chris just shook his head. Once they had his shoes off, they helped Peter lay down and get comfortable, and in no time, he was snoring softly. Stiles gestured for Chris to move into the living area so as not to disturb Peter. 

“I’m thinking one of us should stay with him, make sure he doesn’t have any issues,” he whispered.

Chris nodded in agreement. “I think that’s a good idea.”

“I’ll take the first shift,” Stiles jumped in before Chris could even think to continue.

“Okay… I think I’ll head home and try to get some shut eye.” He checked his watch.  _ Damn _ , it felt way later than it was. “Is it really only eight? It feels like three in the morning.” He rolled his neck from side to side and stretched his back. 

Stiles gave him an odd, apologetic look. “Why don’t you go back to the apartment, sleep, and we’ll meet back here tomorrow morning? We can talk about all the witch stuff then…” He drifted off before saying, “I’m so sorry all of this happened. It’s all my fault. Peter getting hurt. Your arm. Everything. I’m sorry.”

Chris shook his head as the words came tumbling out of Stiles’ mouth. “It’s okay, Stiles. Honestly. What’s important is that we’re all here now, okay?” Stiles shrugged, unconvinced. Chris didn’t want Stiles to feel guilty about all that had happened in the past few days, so in the only way he knew how to get him to understand his sincerity, Chris reached out and pulled Stiles to him, tilting his chin up and claiming his lips in a gentle kiss. It was something they both needed. A reassurance that everything was okay and would continue to be okay. It was soft and quick and simple, but it spoke legions between them. Chris broke the kiss, but kept Stiles’ head in his hands and rested his forehead against Stiles’, his eyes closed and mind at peace. “We’re okay, Stiles. Believe me.” He gave him one more kiss on his forehead before saying, “I’ll see you in the morning,” and leaving the loft.

As he started up his SUV, his phone  _ dinged _ with a text. It was from Allison.

_ A: We need to talk. _

And a moment later, another text came through.

_ A: About Stiles. And how he’s your soulmate. _

Well, shit.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My chapters are getting longer! But this one was much easier to write than the last one, so woo!! Anyway, here's the next chapter, hope y'all enjoy!

Stiles woke with Peter's morning hardness pressed against his lower back, one of his arms thrown loosely around Stiles’ middle. He didn't need to look to know that Peter was still asleep, his soft, even breaths tickling the back of his neck. Based on the amount of light flooding the loft, it was barely past dawn. Stiles tried to roll out from under Peter's arm and get up, but the moment he moved, Peter's arm tightened around his middle, pulling him closer to his bare chest. Stiles let out a huff and remained where he was.

“You're not going anywhere,” Peter slurred through a yawn. Stiles rolled his eyes at Peter's morning antics.

“I have to pee, and if you don't let go of me, you'll be lying in it, so—” Stiles stopped as Peter released his hold on him with an exaggerated sigh and rolled to his other side.

Stiles just shook his head as he stood and padded over to the bathroom. After doing his business, he went to check his phone, which was charging in the kitchen. It was nearly seven AM, and he had eight texts from Chris. Frowning, he opened them.

_ 10:04 PM: Allison found out about you and me. _

_ 10:05 PM: I didn't deny it, but I didn't tell her about Peter…  _

_ 10:09 PM: I asked her if she told Scott, she said she didn't, but that she would if we didn't do it soon.  _

_ 10:10 PM: I thought I told her I didn't want to talk about it. Teenagers. _

_ 10:10 PM: ...No offense _

_ 10:12 PM: Anyway, I know you two are probably asleep after everything, so I won't bother you anymore. Just wanted to give you a heads up.  _

_ 10:13 PM: I'll be over around 8 tomorrow morning. Allison stayed at Scott's, so I won't have to worry about running into her. _

_ 6:52 AM: How'd it go last night? _

Stiles’ stomach was in knots from Allison finding out, and it was even worse that she was now holding it over their heads to tell Scott. “Jesus Christ, how does someone do that?” he yelled a little too loudly into the nearly silent loft. Shaking his head, annoyed, he typed out a quick reply to Chris: 

_ He slept the whole night. Can't believe Allison. I'm awake and angry now if you wanna come on over.  _

“How does who do what?” Peter's voice startled Stiles, making him jump.

“Shit! Peter, you startled me. You shouldn't be up.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “I'm  _ fine _ . I feel like I've almost completely healed. What was with the loud outburst?”

Stiles sighed as his phone buzzed with a text from Chris saying he was on his way. “So apparently, Allison pieced together the fact that Chris and I are soulmates, but she didn't find out about you. Anyway, she pushed him on the subject after he told her he didn't want to talk about it and now she's threatening to tell Scott if we don't do it soon. I just don't get how she could do that. She's kind of acting like a dick, like jeez, come on.” Stiles shook his head angrily again.

“Hmm. Never cared too much for Allison,” Peter stated matter-of-factly. 

Stiles let out a singular laugh, shaking his head. “Is there anyone in our group you ever really  _ cared _ for?”

Peter shrugged as he answered, “Well, you were tolerable, and Lydia was oh, so helpful once upon a time—” Stiles rolled his eyes “—but as for the rest of them… No, not really.”

Stiles rolled his eyes again. “Well, Chris is on his way over… I suggest we go over soulmate business first and then witch business. We have to figure out what we’re going to tell the others… I mean, we may have to tell them everything.”

Peter sighed, obviously annoyed by the idea, as he made his way over to the coffee maker to start a fresh pot. “I don’t see why it’s really any of their business.”

“We have to at least tell them that I have magic.”

“Why?”

“I dunno, maybe because it’s entirely relevant to the situation! Especially since it’s my great-grandmother!”

Peter turned to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and looking into his eyes. “No need to get worked up. If you don’t  _ want _ —and that is the key word here,  _ want _ —to tell them, you don’t have to. You understand that, right?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“There’s no but’s, Stiles.” Peter turned back to making coffee but continued. “Your friends don’t deserve anything from you, not even the truth, and if Allison thinks she can extort it from you, then she’ll have to go through me first.”

Stiles had opened his mouth as soon as Peter cut him off, but as he finished his sentence, Stiles’ throat closed up as a sea of emotion washed over him. He felt it deep in his chest. It was like a pleasurable pain, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss Peter on that sweet mouth, all in hope of relieving it.

At Stiles’ silence, Peter turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised in curiosity, and Stiles threw his arms around Peter’s neck, hugging him close. Peter seemed shocked for a moment, but he eventually returned the hug. As Peter wrapped his arms around his hips, Stiles buried his face in the crook of Peter’s neck and breathed him in. 

“I’m so glad you’re alive,” Stiles whispered. He hadn’t really meant to say it out loud, but there was nothing he could do now. The words were out there, lingering in the air.

Peter didn’t respond; instead, his arms tightened around Stiles, and that was response enough.

After a moment, Peter released him and cleared his throat awkwardly as he returned his focus to making coffee. And about ten minutes later, they each had their own steaming cups in their hands, their hips resting against the counter inches apart. 

“I swear I’m going to kill my daughter,” Chris announced as he walked into the loft without knocking. He came to a stop as he reached the kitchen, and he eyed their mugs. “Fresh pot?”

Peter hummed his assent as he took a sip, and Stiles watched as Chris went to make himself a cup. Once he had, he leaned against the counter opposite them. For a few moments, they all just stood and sipped their coffee in silence, needing time to wake up and get their thoughts in order. 

Finally, as Stiles drained the last bits of his coffee, he said, “Okay. I told Peter we should start with soulmate business and then move on to witch business because I think it’s a little less complicated and probably a quicker discussion. That cool with you, Chris?” Chris nodded. “So tell us what the fuck is wrong with Allison.”

Chris sighed and set his coffee mug on the counter next to him. “Well, remember yesterday how she saw my soulmark was missing?” Stiles nodded. “Apparently, that made her start thinking, and she said she had started to notice similarities between us recently, and she just… put it together. When I left here last night, she texted me saying we needed to talk about it, but I had already told her I didn’t want to. When I got home, she jumped right into it and really tore into me about how I was lying and how I shouldn’t have kept it from her, blah, blah, blah.” Chris paused and shook his head. Stiles had questions, but Chris looked like he had more to say, so Stiles held his tongue. “And then she really pissed me off,” he said with a huff of breath at the end, shaking his head as if he still couldn’t believe it.

When he didn’t continue, Peter spoke up, “Hadn’t she already done that?”

Chris gave him a  _ you-would-think-so  _ look before saying, “It pales in comparison to when she finished by telling me I should back off of Stiles and “give him space” because he’s “too young” for me and if I try to force this soulmate stuff on him, I’ll be “taking advantage of him.” God, I really can’t believe she said that. As if I don’t already feel—” Chris broke off and just shook his head, but Stiles understood.

Peter, however, back to his usual, annoying self, just  _ had  _ to push. “Feel what?” It was a gentle question, spoken in a soft tone, especially for Peter, but it earned him a glare from Chris.

Stiles shook his head at the two of them. They both really hated spelling out their feelings.

“As if I don’t already feel bad enough about it,” Chris finished. He clenched his jaw before continuing. “Look, it’s nothing about you—either of you—but this is all new to me, and as much as I don’t want to, I can be disgusted with how attracted I am to both of you solely because you’re men. It’s just been difficult for me to get used to, but I am getting used to it. Gah, just the nerve on Allison!” He let out a frustrated sigh and dropped his head.

Stiles had never been weirded out by Peter and Chris’ gender; it had always been their age that made him feel odd about being attracted to them. He’d sort of always known he was bi, and he assumed Peter has known for a while that he is attracted to men, based on his experience level in bed. But Stiles had never really considered the shock for Chris when he found out his soulmates were men. Looking back, it makes sense. Chris has always seemed uncomfortable whenever they brought up sex—Stiles always assumed it was for the same reasons he was uncomfortable, but now it makes even more sense.

“What a bitch,” Peter said almost blasely. 

“Hey, watch it, that’s my daughter,” Chris nearly growled.

“Yeah, well, she’s acting like a bitch, and you know it.” Peter stared Chris down for a moment, and Stiles wondered if they were going to go at it to the point of one of them storming off and leaving Stiles with the aftermath. But after a few moments, Chris softened and actually let out a small laugh.

“She really is,” he murmured with a head shake.

“So what are we going to do about it?” Stiles asked. “I mean, I really don’t want Scott to find out about my soulmate status from  _ Allison _ , but I also know he’s better at spreading gossip than Lydia for no other reason than he can’t keep a secret to save his life, so I don’t really want to tell him because it would really mean telling  _ everyone _ , and I’m just not sure we’re ready for that… that  _ I’m _ ready for that.” Stiles swallowed and took a few breaths, realizing he’d started rambling and talking way too fast.

“I say we tell her to back off,” Peter chimed in. “Chris could pull some parenting moves on her and call it a day.”

Chris shook his head. “Not sure she’ll listen.”

“What’s the point of even being a dad, then?” Peter asked, annoyed.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I think we may just have to tell them.”

“I think you’re right, though. We’re not ready,” Chris said, and Peter nodded in agreement.

“Then, what the hell are we going to do?” Stiles asked, exasperated.

It was quiet for a moment before Peter said with a smirk, “I may have an idea.”

*****

There was no way this would work. No way. In fact, Stiles was one thousand percent sure it would just make things worse, but Chris seemed okay with the plan, so Stiles didn’t question it even though he really,  _ really _ wanted to. 

Stiles had called a meeting so that they could all go over the development with the witches, and everyone should be here soon. Peter was currently in the shower, and Chris was sitting at the table, going over some research Peter had done last week. Stiles, however, was pacing nervously around the loft, back and forth, back and forth. His mind was racing nearly as fast as his heart, and his stomach was twisted up in knots. 

Peter emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his hips, his hair dripping, and he said, “ _ Please _ , Stiles, I’m begging you. Calm the fuck down. Your heartbeat is like a drill to my brain.”

Stiles stopped pacing and took a deep breath, trying to settle himself. “Sorry,” he muttered.

Peter rolled his eyes as he walked over to Stiles and shook his head. “Nothing to be sorry about just get your shit together.” Then he gave him a chaste, quick kiss and continued on his way to the bedroom to get dressed.

The short, brief kiss was enough to settle him slightly, and Stiles continued to try to get his thoughts and everything in order before the others arrived, who were bound to show up any minute now.

Sure enough a few minutes later, Stiles heard a car door slam, and he rushed to the window to see who it was. “Allison, Scott, and Isaac are here,” he announced. A moment later another car pulled up. “Lydia and Parrish too.”

Peter, now fully dressed, walked over to the door and pulled it open so that they wouldn’t have to worry about letting everyone in one by one. Soon, voices floated up from the stairs into the loft, growing closer by the minute, and before they knew it, everyone was there.

“Hey, Stiles,” Scott greeted him with a smile. “Nice to see you’re okay.”

Everyone else made an affirmative noise in agreement with Scott. Stiles looked towards Allison, who gave him an odd look, before avoiding her eyes completely. 

“Uh, it’s good to be back,” he said awkwardly. “I figured we should talk about everything that’s happened the past week with the witches kidnapping me and everything.”

“So it  _ was _ the witches,” Isaac blurted, almost gleefully as if he had just had something confirmed for him.

“Yeah, don’t sound too excited,” Stiles said. “I’ve laid out some research here on the table, and Peter and, um, Mr. Argent have added their own too.” He led the group over to the table, where Lydia took a seat and started looking over some of the files. Parrish sat next to her and read over her shoulder. The other three just stood around the table. “So while I was with the witches, I learned that they know about the Nemeton… I’m not sure what they’re going to use it for, but I’m positive they will.” Stiles and his soulmates had collectively decided to leave out the fact that  _ he _ was the one who told them about the Nemeton, assuming it would just create more drama than necessary. 

“Do you know where they are?” Parrish asked. “Could you lead us to them?”

Stiles shrugged. “Honestly, I doubt it. I was kind of distracted when I got out, and I wasn’t paying attention to the road we were on, so even if I tried, I don’t think I could lead us to back there and even if I  _ could _ , they’re probably gone from there now anyway so it’s kind of a dead end and—”

“Stiles, please shut up,” Peter said in his usual annoyed tone. His eyes sent another message:  _ if you don’t shut up, they’ll know something’s up _ . And he was right, so Stiles clamped his mouth shut and resisted his urge to ramble on and on.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lydia give Peter an annoyed glare before refocusing on the file she had open in front of her. Stiles just tried to ignore it.

“Okay, so if you can’t lead us there, could you at least describe some of them, then?” Parrish piped up after a beat of awkward silence. 

“Um, yeah, maybe… Look about that…” Stiles trailed off. They had agreed—Peter reluctantly—to tell them about his great-grandmother, but he still wasn’t sure he should. “The leader of the coven, she’s, uh, she’s related to me.”

For a moment, everyone—except Peter and Chris of course—was too shocked to say anything, and there was a brief moment of silence before they all started talking at once. It was all so loud and everyone was talking over each other that Stiles could hardly think. He closed his eyes and let the sound wash over him for a moment before yelling, “Everyone, shut the fuck up!”

That did the trick. Everyone shut their mouths and waited for him to continue.

“Look, I know just about as much as you do. She’s my great-grandmother, died when my mom was really little. I’ve only ever seen pictures of her, and I’ve occasionally dreamt about her. But other than that, I know jack squat, so just let me finish.” He took a deep breath to settle himself before continuing. “Parrish, I think I should be the one to tell my dad about this, but I can give you her picture, and you can start using that for whatever you need to use it for.”

“Sounds good to me,” Parrish responded politely. 

It was quiet again before Allison spoke up for the first time that day. “So let me get this straight, you called this meeting so that you could tell us that you don’t really know anything?”

And that just set Stiles off, which was  _ not _ part of the plan. “Oh my God, Allison! Lay off! I called this meeting to tell you that I knew who the coven leader is, and oh, also, I’m totally fine after being held captive by them for the past five days! Under a spell I might add. So if you want to call that not knowing anything, fine, but you could at least say it behind my back.” He broke off, breathing heavily, before he said something he regretted.

Thankfully, Chris spoke up. “There’s a lot of research here we need to share as well. If any of it looks interesting or like it might be useful, any of you feel free to take what you need and look it over.”

Lydia stood up, collecting the few files she had in front of her. “Cool. I’m going to take these. If that’s all you guys wanted to talk about, we’re going to head out,” she said. Chris nodded, and she took that as a cue she could leave. She left with Parrish on her tail. “See you losers later,” she yelled over her shoulder. Parrish turned and gave a small wave before leaving with his soulmate.

“I guess we’ll be heading out too… Is there something we could try to track?” Scott asked.

“Like of my great-grandmother’s?” Stiles answered. Scott nodded. “I don’t think we have anything, but we might. It probably won’t be of any use, though.”

“It’s worth a shot… Well, it’s really good to see you’re okay,” Scott said again. “I guess I’ll see you later. You leaving now too?”

Now was the time to implement their little plan, and Chris stood up, getting ready. 

“Um, I need to get some of my research together, and I wanted to talk to Peter about some of his, so I’ll be a little longer, but you go ahead.” Stiles tried to get that out as smoothly as possible without sounding nervous. He wasn't sure he pulled it off.

“Okay, see you later then.” With that, Scott, Allison, and Isaac began to leave.

“Allison, can I talk to you for a moment before you go? Privately?” Chris called before they reached the door, and Allison considered him a moment before nodding. Isaac and Scott left them to their business, and the four of them were alone.

Peter waited until Scott and Isaac were out of hearing range and then he began. “So my question is, who exactly do you think you are?”

Allison gave him a confused look. She opened her mouth to say something, but Peter didn’t let her get it out.

“You think you can blackmail your own father about who his soulmate is and threaten to tell his soulmate’s best friend? What kind of daughter would even do such a thing?”

“Peter,” Chris said sternly. Peter huffed but stayed silent.

“Okay, what the hell is going on?” Allison asked, obviously confused.

“I lost my temper briefly,” Peter stated.

“I guess I did too earlier,” Stiles claimed. “I'd say sorry, but I'm annoyed with you.”

Chris took over at this point. “Allison, I need you to understand that I'm not ready to tell Scott, or anyone for that matter. And neither is Stiles.”

“And what does Peter have to do with any of this?”

“Well I just don't think it should be any of your business who I'm screwing.”

He let the words linger there for Allison to put it together herself, and Stiles watched as her jaw dropped. 

“Hold on,  _ you're _ his—”

“Soulmate. And Stiles’.”

She stood there completely stunned.

In her silence, Stiles continued, “As you can imagine, our situation is a bit unique. We didn't tell anyone at first because even we didn't know what to do with the information.”

“Yeah…” she said slowly. “I, uh, I get it.”

She bit her bottom lip, turning towards Chris. “Dad… what I said last night. I’m sorry. It was stupid, and I didn’t really mean it. At least, I don’t think I did. I was just hurt you didn’t tell me about any of this, but… I get it now. I’m sorry.

“It’s okay. Just give us some time. Please.” She nodded and hugged him.

“I guess I should get going. I’ll let you guys work out amongst yourselves how to tell the others… I shouldn’t have pushed the issue. I’m sorry.”

Peter nodded stiffly, and Stiles shrugged. “We all say stupid shit from time to time.” He tried to give her a relaxed smile but wasn’t sure it came across properly. She smiled back, though.

“I’ll see you later, then,” she said as she turned and retreated from the loft. A few moments later, they heard a car start up and drive away.

Chris took his seat again and put his face in his hands, sighing a relieved sigh. “Well, that went better than I expected.”

“Agreed,” Stiles and Peter chimed. 

“I seriously thought it would make things much, much worse. Telling her everything. And I totally didn’t think Peter would be able to keep it together for long enough,” Stiles said. 

Peter gave him a playful punch on the arm, and Stiles laughed. Even Chris seemed more relaxed and stress-free than this morning. 

A moment of silence passed among them, and Stiles decided they needed to move on to more important business. “Should we work on the case some more?”

“Here’s something,” Peter jumped on the subject change like a train to Paris. “Why didn’t her weird soulmate ritual work?”

Chris turned a quizzical eye towards Stiles and awaited his response. “Oh, um, because for it to work, you have to give up part of all the soulmates.” 

“Wait, she didn’t know you were our soulmate, too?” Peter asked.

Stiles shook his head. “She knew that I knew you both, but she didn’t know we were  _ all  _ soulmates for some reason. I don’t know how she found out about you two.”

Peter frowned. “But what about that morning a witch broke in? You were here, they had to have seen you, and it’s not like it looked like you were just an acquaintance that crashed on my couch.”

“I—huh, I hadn’t thought of that… I don’t know.”

Peter shook his head. “Something’s not right. There’s something we don’t know.”

Chris let out a sardonic laugh. “There are  _ a lot _ of things we don’t know. For one, we don’t even know how Stiles’ great-grandmother is still alive. We don’t know how he has magical abilities, and we don’t know what this coven wants. We’re pretty much flying blind here.”

Peter hummed an agreement before saying, “What happened when you took her to the Nemeton? Which, by the way, I still think you should  _ not _ have done.”

“What was I supposed to do? Let you die?” Peter gave him a look that clearly said  _ yes _ , but he ignored it. “What’s done is done… When I took her to the Nemeton, she just kinda… I dunno. She got really quiet, started murmuring to herself, and then she ordered one of her coven members to take me back and to release you two. I wasn’t supposed to leave, I know that much.”

“At least if she comes after you again, we’ll be more ready,” Peter supplied. “So she seemed to know what to do with the Nemeton, how to tap into its power?”

“I think so.”

“Well that’s not good,” Chris muttered. “I think we should do more research into the Nemeton and see if there’s a way to block its power or something. We can’t let her use it. If she’s able to really tap into it and wield its power, she’ll destroy the whole town.”

No one had a response to that, and they all just sat in a heavy silence that seemed to drag on for hours until Stiles’ phone’s obnoxious ring broke it. He scrambled to answer. “Hello?”

“Stiles, are you coming home at any point? Or am I to assume your kidnapped every time you don’t answer your phone?” Stiles’ dad sounded worried more than angry, but anger was still hidden in his voice.

“Oh shit, yes. Yes, I’ll be home in ten minutes. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, just communicate. I’ll see you soon.” And with that, his dad hung up, and Stiles looked apologetically at his soulmates. 

“I gotta go… Talk to you later?”

Peter and Chris nodded in unison, and Stiles left the loft to head home. He made it all the way down to the parking lot before he realized he didn’t have his car here. Thankfully, Chris was on his tail and said, “Need a lift?”

“It’s been a rough 24 hours.”

Chris gave him an understanding look and hopped in the driver’s seat of his SUV as Stiles climbed into the passenger seat. A moment later, he pulled out and drove Stiles home; it only took about ten minutes, and they shared the ride in comfortable silence. Stiles’ mind still raced with questions and inaccuracies and theories from the past few days that he thought if he tried to talk, nothing would come out the way he’d intend it to.

When they reached Stiles’ house, he unbuckled and started to climb out when Chris said, “I’m going back to Peter’s after this. I still think we should monitor him, make sure he doesn’t have a reaction to the spell.”

Stiles nodded. “That’s a good idea.”

“If you want to come back later, maybe we could pick up where we left off.”

It took a moment for Chris’ words to fully register with him, but once understanding hit, he felt his face flush. As he stepped out of the car and turned to shut the door, he said, “Oh, I am  _ definitely _ coming by later.”

Chris gave him a surprisingly confident smile considering how uncomfortable he said this all made him, and Stiles returned it before closing the door and walking into his house.

_ Pick up where we left off? Hell yeah. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, if you subscribe and saw that I posted this chapter twice, it's because after receiving an insightful comment, I decided I uploaded prematurely and hadn't edited properly. The whole Allison scene where the three of them tell her what's going on was much more heated, and I did kinda felt weird about it, but I didn't let it sit and I rushed to post it. But thanks to a wonderful reader, I realized I'd gone too far, and I am much happier with this version. Hope you all enjoyed and continue to do so!!
> 
> ~thesherlockianwhojustcant


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all... y'all listen. I've had some shit goin on the past couple months. I'm applying to grad school, jobs, finishing college, had a death in the family... It's been crazy. And on top of it all, I've had horrible writer's block for this fic. This chapter was like pulling teeth. But I finally got it!! Yay!! I hope it makes up for lost time, and I hope you all enjoy!!
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Peter stood at the window of the loft and watched Chris’ car retreat from the parking lot. With both of his soulmates gone, he was able to finally relax. He released a shaky breath and took a seat at the table, his knees weak. His whole body ached, felt like he’d been run over by a truck. He’d put up a face for Stiles and Chris this morning because he really didn’t want them to fawn over them with worry. It annoyed him to no end.

He did feel better than he had last night, though, and he could feel himself healing. It was just slow. Agonizingly slow, especially for Peter since he wasn’t a patient person to begin with. Just so many things had gone wrong in the past few days. They’d found Stiles, but he’d been under some kind of spell and  _ kidnapped _ him and Chris. Then, he and Chris were nearly  _ sacrificed _ for Stiles’ crazy great-grandmother, and he’d nearly died from Wolfsbane poisoning. And on top of all of that, they still knew next to nothing about these damned witches and what they wanted. But the real icing on the cake was Allison’s nerve to fucking—

Peter groaned out loud from annoyance. He’d always thought Allison was smarter than the majority of Scott’s pack, especially Scott. Maybe not as smart as Lydia or Stiles, but smart nonetheless. And he’d considered her rational, too. Again, for the most part. But the way she’d acted earlier had surprised Peter. She was prepared to blackmail her own father over something that was his own business to begin with. The whole thing just pissed him off, and even now after her saying she wouldn’t say anything and would back off, he didn’t trust her. Not that he ever really trusted her in the first place, but he especially didn’t trust her now. She may have sympathy for Chris and maybe even Stiles, but Peter knew she had no such sentiments for him. And he wouldn’t put it past her to use this information to get something from him and him alone.

He just didn’t like people having personal information about him. 

But there wasn’t much he could do about it now. It wasn’t like he could erase Allison’s memories or anything. He’ll just have to be ready when or if the time comes that Allison decides to use this whole thing against him somehow. 

Peter sighed and stood, wincing as he did. His muscles ached as he walked back to his bed and collapsed onto it face-first. Almost instantly, he fell into a deep sleep.

*****

His eyes snapped open at the sound of the door sliding along its tracks. Footsteps followed. Peter took a deep breath through his nose and felt his muscles relax. It was only Stiles… and Chris? A moment later, voices flowed into Peter’s space from the kitchen.

“How long has he been out?” Stiles asked.

Chris sighed. “I got back around, hmm, maybe one? So about six hours.”

“Jeez,” Stiles released as a breath.

“I can hear you, you know,” Peter said. He turned over onto his back as Stiles and Chris moved into the room.

Chris looked him over with an amused glint in his eyes and chuckled softly. “Tired?” he asked.

Peter rolled his eyes and said, “You try being a werewolf and getting wolfsbane poisoning.”

Chris’ tone shifted, becoming more serious. “Are you still in pain?”

Peter sat up in bed a little, allowing him to get a better look at his soulmates. Chris had a pinched brow, and his mouth was in a thin line. Stiles’ expression was no different. They looked worried. 

“No need to worry,” Peter said. “I feel myself healing, just… slowly.”

Stiles’ expression grew sympathetic. “Is there anything we can do?”

“How sweet,” Peter said sarcastically out of instinct. “But no. I’ll heal eventually. There’s not much we can do to speed up the process. Trust me, no one is more upset about this than me.” 

Chris raised his eyebrows, almost as if to say  _ oh really? _ His words surprised Peter. “I don’t know. I think I can speak for Stiles and myself when I say we’re equally disappointed. Especially since I told him we could pick up where we left off.”

Peter frowned, truly wondering if Chris was flirting. Then he smirked. “Never said I couldn’t do anything. Trust me, there are  _ lots _ of things I could do just lying here.”

Chris’ face reddened slightly, the only indication that Peter’s words affected him.  _ How cute,  _ Peter thought.

“Well, good,” he said confidently. 

Stiles cleared his throat, almost seeming uncomfortable, but when Peter shifted his eyes to him, he looked more apprehensive than anything else.

“You don’t think you’re healing slowly because of what I did, do you?” Stiles asked. “I mean, that was the first time I’d ever consciously used magic, so it’s possible I didn’t do something right and I hurt you, but you’re alive, so there’s that. But what if you can’t heal properly anymore because I—”

“I swear to god, Stiles,” Peter cut him off. “It’s not you,” he said, trying to be gentle with his tone. “Wolfsbane isn’t something I can get over easily. Especially considering the condition I was in. I’m not worried that I’ll be healed within the next few days.”

“Are you sure? Because I could read up on the spell we used and see if there are any side effects or if there’s anything that says it affects healing and then we’d know for sure—”

“Chris, would you please do me the honor of shutting Stiles up? I find suddenly kissing him usually does the trick.”

Chris shook his head, but he didn’t hesitate to pull Stiles to him and give him a quick, yet deep kiss. When he pulled back, Peter was pleased to see he was right. Stiles’ eyes had glazed over a bit, and his words died on his tongue.

Peter stretched his arms above him, his body already feeling more healed compared to earlier, but his stomach rumbled with hunger. “I haven’t eaten all day,” he nearly groaned the words. He didn’t want to eat; he wanted to finally cut this fucking sexual tension among the three of them. He smelled the lust on both Stiles and Chris. They all wanted this, but Peter knew he had to eat, or he’d be practically useless in bed.

So he pushed the sheets off of him and got out of bed, making his way to the kitchen. 

“Peter,” Stiles said, catching up to him, “why don't you let me make you something?”

Peter just frowned at him for a moment.

“I make food all the time for my dad and me. If I didn't cook, neither of us would eat anything decent.” 

Peter eyed him curiously. “What do you have in mind?”

“You sit at the table. I'll make you a grilled cheese or something.” 

Peter sensed Chris watching this exchange from the doorway to the bedroom, but he remained focused on Stiles. “What am I? Twelve?” he asked.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Don't knock grilled cheese. It’s the ultimate comfort food.Now. Sit down and shut up,” he said more playful than commanding. 

Peter did, and a moment later, Chris joined him, taking a seat across from him.

“Hey, you want to make me dinner too?” Chris called.

Stiles laughed. “As you wish.”

A minute later, the sounds and smells of cooking filled the air, and Peter's mouth began to water. Suddenly, he didn't care what Stiles put in front if him. He'd eat anything in that moment. About ten minutes later, Stiles returned to him and Chris with two plates, each with a grilled cheese. He set the plates in front of them and said, “Bon apetit!”

Peter warfed the sandwich down. It was perfectly done, and it was delicious. Stiles was right, as much as Peter hated to admit it, grilled cheese was the best comfort food. Once he was done, he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his stomach feeling more refreshed.

Now that he had some sustenance in him, he felt much better, and he was in less pain. 

“I take back what I said,” Peter admitted. “That was perfect.”

Stiles smiled. “I knew you'd like it.”

“Come over here so that I can thank you properly.”

Stiles’ face reddened slightly as it always did when they were in this situation, but his eyes gleamed with excitement as he made his way to Peter's side of the table. When he reached him, Stiles leaned down and allowed Peter to pull him into a deep kiss. Peter licked his way into Stiles’ mouth, and the younger man moaned, the sound swallowed by Peter's lips, but it sent heat down Peter's body all the same. 

Peter was surprised to hear Chris’ chair push back and for him to make his way over to his soulmates. A moment later, Stiles pulled away from Peter and was turned towards Chris, who then claimed the young man’s lips in a kiss. Peter watched for a moment as his soulmates discovered each other. Swallowing each other's moans, their hands roaming over one another. Chris ran his hands down to the small of Stiles’ back and pulled his shirt up slightly, exposing his lower back.

Peter joined back in, then, and kissed Stiles just above his waistline. Stiles broke his kiss with Chris to gasp. Meanwhile, Peter reached around Stiles’ hips and unbuttoned his jeans from behind and then pulled them down so that they pooled around Stiles’ ankles. Peter teased the waistline of his boxers with his tongue, and Stiles groaned.

“We need a bed,” Stiles managed to point out. 

Chris huffed out a laugh. “And fewer clothes,” he said with a grin.

“What has gotten into you?” Peter asked.

Stiles shoved a hand in his direction. “Fuck now, ask questions later,” he almost whined.  _ Damn _ , Peter forgot how needy he was.

Peter shook his head and followed the other two men into the bedroom. The air around them seemed to wrinkle with tension, and for a moment, they all just stood there. Their momentum from the kitchen wearing off. 

“Stiles,” Peter said, deciding to take the leap here, “why don't you take off the rest of your clothes? I'll help Chris with his.”

Stiles didn't need to be told twice. He stripped his shirt off and wiggled out of his boxers in no time. Then, he climbed onto the bed and watched as Peter moved to Chris. 

Chris had lost some of his confidence, unease seeping into his eyes, but as Peter took hold of his hips and pulled him closer, his eyes locked on Peter's. Passion and want lay hidden beneath his unease, and he knew Chris wanted this. So he kissed him, differently than he had Stiles. It was slow and deliberate, meant to make Chris feel at ease but also get his heart rate up. When Peter ran his hands down Chris’ front to his groin, he smirked into the kiss. Chris was hard. 

Peter took off Chris’ pants first, then his shirt. He stepped back to look him over, and  _ damn _ , he looked good. His muscled chest moved up and down as he panted. He still had his boxers on, but Peter could tell his size from the tent in them. Chris latched back on to Peter, and this time, he controlled the kiss. It was hungry and flustered, but it made him moan into it anyway. It was Chris’ turn to strip Peter of his clothes, and he didn't leave him with his boxers as Peter had him. No, he pulled Peter's pants and underwear off in one go. 

Peter stepped out of his pants and turned to Stiles, who was stroking himself lazily as he watched them. Peter crawled up the bed from the foot to Stiles’ hips. He knocked Stiles’ hand away, and Stiles let go as an exasperated sigh left his lips.

“No fair—  _ shit _ .” Stiles let out a long groan as Peter took his cock in his mouth. 

He took his time getting Stiles off. He heard Chris move to the side of the bed, so he could watch, and a moment later, he heard his boxers drop to the floor. Peter smirked around the cock in his mouth and kept at it until Stiles was practically begging for Peter to make him come. With Stiles’ fingers laced in his hair, Peter picked up his pace and took Stiles as deep as he could. In an instant, Stiles came, reduced to a mumbling, moaning mess. He shivered for a few moments afterward as his cock softened in Peter's mouth. 

Peter pulled off and moved farther up the bed to give Stiles a chaste kiss on the mouth. Then, he turned his head to Chris, whose eyes were on his immediately and filled with lust.

“I want to do that to you,” Chris said, and Peter felt himself twitch.

“Well, get in here then,” he said, his voice more breathless than he realized. 

Stiles scooted out from underneath Peter so that he could lie on his back, and Chris took up Peter's former position. Almost hesitantly, he gripped Peter's cock and gave it a few soft strokes. As soft and teasing as they were, they had Peter throwing his head back and moaning. Stiles took advantage and sucked at his nape, only adding to the sensations working their way through Peter's body. 

Suddenly, the wet heat of Chris’ mouth enveloped his cock, and he had to lean up and look. The sight was beautiful. Chris’ mouth around his cock, sucking softly— it was fucking obscene. Then, Chris started licking his way up and down Peter's shaft, and he threw his head back once again. His eyes forced themselves closed from the pleasure. Stiles pressed kisses down his neck and across his collarbone before taking his right nipple into his mouth. Peter gasped. Stiles had previously discovered Peter's sensitive nipples, but he'd never done this before. It felt amazing. 

Peter lost track of time, his mind going blank with absolute pleasure. At some point, he felt his stomach begin to coil, and he ground out, “I'm gonna come.” Not a second later, he shot his load down Chris’ throat. 

It took him a moment to come down from his high, but when he did, he found Chris climbing up next to him. 

“Did you—”

“Yeah, when you did,” Chris answered. 

Damn, that was good. Stiles curled up into his other side, throwing an arm over his stomach. He yawned loudly and quickly fell asleep. 

Chris leaned up on an elbow so that he could see Stiles. He chuckled. “I remember those days. I used to get so tired after an orgasm, I'd fall asleep almost instantly.”

Peter snorted. “Not so anymore?”

“Not really.” He paused. “I see he's a cuddler.”

“Unfortunately,” Peter sighed. 

Chris just laughed.

“If you're not careful, you're going to wake him up. He's very grumpy when that happens.”

That just made Chris laugh harder. “Of course, he is,” he said.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Trust me, it's not as endearing as you'd think.”

“Uh huh.”

“Oh, shut up,” he said. “Go to sleep.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Chris said mockingly as he turned over on his side. 

Peter rolled his eyes again before trying to go to sleep. It proved easier said than done, given his six hour nap earlier. But he eventually felt his eyes droop, and he drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

He woke up mid-morning and found both of his soulmates already awake, whispering above him.

When Stiles noticed he was awake, he pressed a small kiss to the corner of his mouth and said, “Morning, sleeping beauty.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Every time.”

Stiles laughed. 

Chris stretched and pushed off the sheets as he got out of bed. “Hey, you mind if I take a shower?”

Peter shook his head and followed Chris’ form as he left the room. A bit later, the shower started up.

“Are you feeling better today?” Stiles asked.

Peter shifted his eyes to him and found he looked worried but less so than yesterday. “I will once you make me some coffee.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Make it yourself.”

“Really? You're going to make poor ol injured me make my  _ own _ coffee? Now that just doesn't seem right.”

Stiles shook his head at him but smiled and got out of bed anyway. “Fine,” he said. He headed to the kitchen to make Peter's coffee buck naked.

Peter laid back with a smile on his face. It was a good start to the morning.

At least, until Stiles screamed.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! Yay! Hope you all enjoy!!

Chris was out of the shower in an instant. Stiles’ scream had shot through him, made him panic. He didn't care that he was naked, he ran out if the bathroom and to the kitchen where the scream had come from. He stopped dead in his tracks when he reached Stiles.

Stiles, too, was naked, and he was covering his crotch with one hand as the other covered his chest as if he had boobs. Peter was naked too, but he didn't bother to cover himself. He just stood by the dining table, taking in the scene.

Derek, however, was fully clothed. His mouth was slack from shock, and his wide eyes moved from Peter to Stiles to Chris and back again. Chris was too stunned to cover himself like Stiles, so he just stayed stuck rooted to the ground where he stood and waited for someone to say something.

Finally, Derek spoke. “What the—” he broke off before trying again. “What the fuck? Why are you all naked?”

“Well, Chris was in the shower,” Peter stated flatly.

Derek gave him a glare. “I see that, but why is he showering in _my_ apartment? And why the hell is Stiles making coffee naked? And for the love of god, _why_ are you naked, Peter?”

Peter shrugged. “I like sleeping nude.”

Derek groaned out of frustration and yelled, “Oh my god, Peter! Seriously— wait.” Derek’s eyes focused on something on Peter and walked over to him. He lifted his left arm— his soulmark arm— and gasped. “Your soulmark is gone,” he said, sounding like he was on the verge of understanding. “Is… is _Stiles_ your soulmate?”

“And Chris,” Peter pointed out.

Derek’s eyes jumped to Chris, and he resisted the urge to cover himself as Stiles had. Derek turned back to his uncle, shaking his head. He threw his arms up and said, “I don’t wanna know. I do _not_ wanna know.” He turned and started leaving the loft. “I’ll be back in half an hour, and if Stiles is still naked when I get back, I swear to god,” he said as he exited and closed the door behind him.

It was silent for a moment before Peter said, “Really, Stiles? _Derek_ is the reason you screamed?”

“I was startled!”

Peter rolled his eyes and hit him upside the head— gently, but Stiles mimicked pain anyway. Chris watched them for a moment before shaking his head and returning to his shower. He’d left it running in his haste to get to Stiles. He stepped back into the warm shower and resumed washing himself. He’d felt sticky this morning from sweat and sex, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to leave without showering. As he stood under the spray, his mind wandered back to yesterday.

Last night had been… it’d been amazing. He’d had plenty of sex over the years, but he’d never enjoyed it that much. It had always seemed like a chore with Victoria and with other women he’s slept with, it was nothing more than a release. But last night… hell, he hadn’t even fucked anyone, and he felt more satisfied than he ever had. No one had even really _touched_ him. He came by his own hand, but after watching Peter get Stiles off, he had been on the edge. And then he and Peter— he’d—

He couldn’t even bring himself to think about it. But the noises Peter made, they had brought Chris over the edge harder and faster than any woman’s touch ever had. Just thinking about it turned him on.

Finished washing himself, Chris turned off the shower and toweled off.

Surprisingly, he wasn’t feeling remorseful after last night. Quite the opposite, actually. And for that, he was glad. There was still a part of his mind that itched to insight disgust at the activities he partook in last night, and his stomach still twisted when he thought about them like that. But on the whole, he no longer resisted his attraction to Stiles and Peter.

When he emerged from the bathroom—wrapped in a towel this time—he found Peter and Stiles drinking coffee at the table, both still naked. Chris rolled his eyes, amused, and padded into the bedroom to get dressed. He felt more than heard his soulmates follow him in. Stiles wrapped his arms around his waist and loosed his towel so that it fell to the floor. Chris let his hands roam up and down his chest as his lips trailed kisses across his shoulder blades. His fingers left a trail of goosebumps in their wake, and he felt his pulse pick up.

Chris slipped out of Stiles’ grasp and turned to face his soulmates. Peter had a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Derek’s going to be back soon,” he claimed.

“Don’t worry,” Peter said, stepping closer, “I locked the door.”

“A door that he has a key to,” Chris wagered.

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Yes, but the lock is not to keep him out.” He moved closer and ran his hands down Stiles’ back, cupping his ass when he reached it. “It’s to warn us.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “You two may be fine with getting caught red-handed, but—”

“I got an idea!” Stiles exclaimed excitedly. Then, he ran out of the room for a moment before returning with an adorable smile on his face, holding up a plastic baggy. “Mountain ash.”

Peter raised his eyebrows. “Where did you get that? And what exactly do you plan to do with it?”

“I got it from Deaton… I carry it around with me.” Stiles looked sheepish for a brief moment before he was excited yet again. “I’ll put a line in front of the door, so even if Derek opens it, he won’t be able to get in.”

“Now this just seems cruel,” Peter said. Chris frowned at him before he continued. “I love it. What do you think?” Peter asked, turning to Chris. Stiles looked at him beseechingly, too, and he gave in.

“Seems good enough,” he said.

*****

Chris lay panting on the bed, sticky and sweaty yet again.

“God damn,” Peter muttered.

Stiles laughed breathlessly. “Back at ya.”

Chris smiled. “Okay, _now_ , we should get dressed.”

The other two groaned. “Fine,” Peter relented.

Chris chuckled as he disentangled himself from them. He snatched his towel off the floor and used it to clean himself up. He tossed it to Peter when he was done, and he and Stiles did the same. Chris pulled on his jeans and underwear from last night, and he searched for his shirt as Peter and Stiles started getting dressed too.

This time, they were at least _partially_ dressed when Derek came back. Peter and Stiles erupted into laughs when he yelled from outside the loft, obviously annoyed about the mountain ash. Chris couldn’t help a few laughs himself, but he was the one to walk to the door and break the line so that Derek could come into his home.

Derek walked past him and shook his head upon finding Stiles and Peter in nothing more than their boxers.

“Are you guys nudists now or something?” Derek asked.

Stiles stopped laughing long enough to say, “Or something.”

Chris was about to close the door when Braeden stepped in. “Oh, didn’t see you there,” he said as an apology.

She just smirked at him and continued into the loft. He closed the door and followed. Peter and Derek were arguing when he rejoined the conversation. Well, maybe _arguing_ wasn’t the best word. Derek was yelling at his uncle while Peter remained calm and amused. Typical.

“...that doesn’t mean you can act like this is your house and pretend I’m never coming back! I mean, what the hell, Peter?” Derek paused, breathing heavily, and when he didn’t continue, Peter spoke.

“Are you done?”

Derek looked like he was about to launch into another tirade when Braeden touched his arm and said, “Yes, he is.”

Derek gave her a look that said she betrayed him, but she didn’t seem to mind. Even though Chris didn’t really know Derek that well, he figured that that kind of look just came with the territory. If he was related to Peter, he had to be at least a little dramatic.

“Good,” Peter said. “So,” he continued, clasping his hands in front of him, “what brings the lovebirds back to Beacon Hills?”

Derek seemed to forget about his uncle’s indiscretions, at least for now, as Braeden said, “My sister’s missing.”

“You have a sister?” Stiles asked, seemingly surprised.

“Yeah, she moved here after my parents died so that she could be closer to me and Derek.”

“How long has she been missing?” Stiles asked.

Braeden shrugged. “I got a call from one of her professors, said she hadn’t seen her in three weeks, couldn't get in contact with her, and she was worried about her. She wanted to know if she was okay, but I didn’t know. I tried to call her but haven’t been able to get in contact with her.”

“How old is she?” Chris asked.

“Nineteen. She goes to community college here.” Braeden shook her head. “This just isn’t like her. Something’s wrong, I can feel it.”

Derek rubbed her back soothingly, and she leaned into his side.

“I’ll call my dad,” Stiles said, “I can tell him you guys are coming in, and he’ll help you.”

Braeden gave him a small smile. “Thanks.”

“So what have _we_ missed?” Derek asked. “Other than— _this_?” He gestured to the three of them.

“Witches are attacking Beacon Hills,” Peter said bluntly.

“What?” Derek and Braeden chimed.

“Yep, it’s not good.”

Braeden and Derek looked like they had a lot of questions, but Chris knew they didn’t really have time for this right now. “Why don’t we catch you up after you speak with Sheriff Stilinski?” he said.

Braeden nodded. “Yeah… Um, I just need to get something first.” She walked over to one of the bedside tables and pulled out a picture.

“Is that her?” Stiles asked as she came back. Braeden nodded and showed him. In an instant, Stiles’ face changed. His expression turned from pure curiosity to worried in the blink of an eye. “That’s— that’s your sister?”

“Yeah,” Braeden said, catching a glance of Stiles’ face. “Why? Do you know something?”

Stiles swallowed, making eye contact with Chris briefly. Chris frowned, unsure of what he was trying to communicate. Stiles focused back on Braeden and said, “I just thought she looked familiar.”

Braeden eyed him curiously but didn’t push the subject. “Okay, well, we’re going to head to the station.”

“Yeah, and don’t… _do_ anything while we’re gone,” Derek said.

Peter rolled his eyes. “No promises,” he called after them as they left the apartment. Once they were gone, Peter turned to Stiles. “Why did you lie to her?”

“You lied to her?” Chris echoed.

Stiles looked reproachful. “I’m not entirely sure… I don’t want to worry her over nothing.”

“Over what?” Chris asked.

Stiles sighed. “I think she’s in the coven.”

Peter raised his eyebrows. “You saw her?”

Stiles chewed his bottom lip. “I think so… I don’t know. Maybe. Look, I wasn’t really in my best mindset while I was there, ya know. Most of the time I was under a spell, and I could barely remember my own name. And after she had me bring you guys to her, I couldn’t remember the past few days, so— look, maybe it isn’t her. Maybe I’m just—”

“Stiles,” Chris cut in. “If there is any possibility her sister is with the coven, you need to tell her and your dad. It’ll probably increase her chances of being found.”

“ _And,_ ” Peter added, “it could give us the lead we need to find the coven.”

Stiles looked between the two of them for a moment as if debating what he should do. Then he released a breath and groaned. “Fine. I’ll go to the station.” He sighed another over-exaggerated sigh. “If _Peter_ thinks I need to tell her, then I’m obviously wrong.”

“Hey!” Peter said, mock hurt lacing his tone.

Stiles just laughed.

Chris shook his head. “We’ll come with you,” he suggested, and Stiles nodded.

“That would be good,” he said.

They finished getting dressed and started leaving the apartment. As Chris reached the door, he closed the line of mountain ash with his foot. When Peter went to follow him and Stiles out, he stopped just in front of the door and scowled. Chris laughed, and when Stiles saw what he’d done, he joined in.

“This your doing, Argent?” he asked.

Chris shrugged.

“Oh, you are _so_ going to regret this later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, let's just pretend we live in a world where professors call your emergency contact if they can't get in touch with you/haven't seen you in a while.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, it's been a while. Well, here's the next chapter. It's a tad on the short side, and it was originally supposed to be much lighter, I swear. I hope y'all enjoy anyway, and I hope you guys are having a good holiday season as well as a good end to the semester if you're in school!
> 
> Thanks for reading and for all the kudos and comments!!

Stiles called his dad as Chris drove them to the station. His dad picked up on the third ring, but it wasn’t a “hello” he was greeted with.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in school?” his dad asked.

“I’m still recovering!” Stiles claimed. 

“You looked fine yesterday,” he said, not buying his son’s lie for a minute. “You need to go to school, Stiles.”

“I know, but we’re on the way to the station. Derek and Braeden are going to be there soon to report her sister missing, and I have information regarding the case.”

“You can just tell me later. If you book it, you can make it to school before second period.” Stiles rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry about a missing persons’ case. We can handle it.”

“But it’s the witches!” Stiles exclaimed. 

“You think they took her?” he asked.

“Maybe. I don’t know. I think she may be  _ part  _ of the coven.”

His dad was quiet for a moment, and then he said, “Okay, I’ll tell them.  _ You _ ,” he said placing special emphasis on the word, “are going to school. If you show up here, I swear to god, you’ll be grounded for a month.”

“A month! Come on—”

“Two, if you argue.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

“I’ll see you later.”

“Okay,” he said, defeated. “Bye.”

They hung up, and Chris looked at him as if to ask what his dad said. Peter, on the other hand, was smiling, the little twat, probably having heard his father on the other end of the phone. 

“I have to go to school,” Stiles said with a pout.

Chris’ eyes widened. “I’d forgotten it was a weekday. I’ll drop you off.”

Stiles groaned. “Ugh, I need to tell Braeden about her sister.”

“Well, lucky for you,” Peter said with a hint of amusement in his voice, “Chris and I don't have school.”

Stiles brooded the rest of the way to school. He'd miss most of first period, but better to get there when everyone else was in class. He didn't need to try to explain why Allison's dad was dropping him off. 

“At least, text me and let me know how it goes?” he said as Chris pulled up to the front of the school.

“We'll let you know,” Chris said with a smile. “Now get.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and went inside. After stopping by the attendance office to get a pass, he went to his first period. Coach chastised him as he handed him his pass, but it was Scott's confused look that made his stomach twist in knots. He really did need to tell him, but it was hard enough admitting to himself that Peter and Chris are his soulmates. 

So Stiles just said, “Overslept,” as way of explanation. It was enough for Scott.

He fell in step with him as they left class. “I was actually surprised you showed up today,” Scott said.

Stiles frowned. “Why?”

“Um, because you were kidnapped twice in the span of like a week.”

“Oh,” Stiles said dumbly, “right. Well, I'm feeling much better.”

Scott studied him for a moment. “You sure? You seem… I dunno, distracted.”

_ That's because I am.  _ “Nah, I'm fine,” he lied. “Hey, I'll catch you at lunch,” he said as the warning bell rang. Scott nodded and waved a small goodbye. Stiles would make it through this day, dammit. It was just school.

He made it halfway through third period. And, really, it wasn't his fault his history teacher's book had spontaneously combusted. Because he was sitting in the back row of the class. There was no way anyone would think he did it. Hell, there wasn't even a way he  _ could _ have done it. Well, no  _ natural _ way, anyway.

He could have coughed the whole spontaneous combustion thing up to dry weather or just weird shit. But when he panicked, and water doused the flames immediately, and he'd felt the distinct surge of magical power run through him, well, he couldn't quite deny his guilt then, could he? 

But how the hell had he done it? He hadn't even been trying to do magic. It had just sort of… happened. Apparently, he didn't need spells to bend the elements to his will, but surely, he could learn to control it. Right? 

While his classmates and teacher were studying the book curiously—and cautiously—he slipped out the door and made for the bathroom. He checked to see if the rest of the stalls were empty, and he called Peter. It went to voicemail the first time, so he called again, and he picked up that time. 

“Shouldn’t you be in class?” Peter cooed, arrogance lacing his tone. In another situation, Stiles may have been annoyed or given him some witty retort.

Instead, he hysterically yelled, “I just set my teacher’s book on  _ fire _ ! And then immediately put it out.  _ With my mind _ , Peter! What the hell—”

“Stiles, slow down.” Peter’s voice had lost all haughtiness. He was completely serious now. “Tell me what happened. Calmly.”

Stiles took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Okay,” he said, more relaxed than before. “I, uh, I was sitting in class. A little bored out of my mind, to be honest, and I zoned out, I guess? And then, the teacher’s book just caught on fire. I panicked, and water came out of nowhere and put it out.”

“And you’re sure you used magic?” 

“I felt it. I doused the flames, I know I did. And I’m pretty sure I set the book on fire too. My eyes were resting on it when I zoned out.”

“Hold on,” Peter said. A moment later, he was back, “You’re on speaker with me and Chris.”

“You okay, Stiles?” Chris asked, worry in his voice. 

Stiles released half a laugh. “Honestly? I’ve been better.”

“It seems like you’re having trouble controlling your powers,” Peter pointed out the obvious. “Try not to get distracted, or zone out. You have enough natural affinity to use the elements without spells. Think you can make it through the day?”

“Trying not to get distracted or zone out is like asking a dog not to chase a squirrel. I’ve got ADHD, man, and I didn’t take my meds this morning.”

“That’s irrelevant,” Peter said.

“No, it’s entirely relevant,” Chris countered. “If he can’t stay focused, he may burn down the whole school.”

“Do you really think he’d be able to produce magic on such a scale?”

“I don’t know  _ what  _ he’s capable of. That’s part of the problem—”

“Hey, guys,” Stiles cut in, “not helping.”

“Sorry,” they both muttered immediately. 

It was quiet for a moment. Then, Peter asked, “Stiles, do you or do you not think you can make it through the day? You say the word, and we’ll come get you.”

Stiles thought about it. “I can probably make it to lunch, but I need my pills. Can you ask my dad to bring them to the school? Or if he can’t do it, can one of you bring them to me? If I don’t have them, I’ll have no chance of making it through the day.”

“We’ll get on that, then,” Chris said. “If anything else happens, call us.”

“Will do,” Stiles said. “Thanks, guys.”

“Anytime,” Peter said. “Oh, and Stiles?”

“Yes?”

“Do try  _ not _ to burn the school down.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Aye, aye, captain.”

He shook his head as he hung up and made his way back to class.

*****

So Stiles made it to lunch, wahoo! But he was jittery and nervous. He bounced his leg up and down incessantly and bit his nails. He was too nervous to eat. It wasn’t just that he was worried about his magic; he was also going through withdrawal. After he got off the phone with Chris and Peter, he thought about when he’d last had his pills. It’d been at least a few days. With everything else going on, he’d been so spaced and overwhelmed that taking his meds had slipped his mind.  _ I’m an idiot _ , he thought. 

_ No, _ a familiar voice said sweetly,  _ you’re not an idiot. Just… clumsy. _

Stiles clenched his jaw and willed himself to ignore the voice.

_ I mean, setting books on fire in front of everyone? Not very subtle, is it? _

_ Shut up, _ Stiles thought.  _ Just shut up. _

_ Now, why would I do that? _

Stiles closed his eyes and tried to think of something else, to rid himself of this stupid, stupid voice.

_ You can’t even be subtle with those soulmates of yours, can you? Your father found out easily enough, as did Allison. And Lydia may be in the dark for now, but you don’t really think she won’t catch on eventually, do you? _

_ Thought I told you to shut up. _

The voice actually  _ giggled _ .  _ My, my, you are fun to rile up.  _ He tried to ignore the voice as it continued.  _ And how do you think your “soulmates” feel about you? How they really feel about you, I mean. Sure, Chris probably cares for you, but do you think he’s moved past your age or your gender? Tsk, those things aren't easily ignored.  _

_ SHUT. UP. _ Stiles thought furiously.

_ And you can’t honestly think Peter, the evil, evil werewolf, has true feelings for you, can you? He’s as unfeeling as it gets. Practically a psychopath. He’s using you, and you know it. Using you for your body, for—  _

“Shut up!” Stiles screamed. His friends and a few others around him looked at him suddenly, obviously surprised by his outburst. He took a breath. “Sorry,” he said. He stood up abruptly and left them bewildered at their table. He picked up his pace until he finally reached the bathroom. He flung a stall door open, fell to his knees, and threw up ungracefully. He supposed he was lucky to have made it to the toilet. The voice was gone. For now. It’d be back, he knew, but it was gone for now. 

He wiped his mouth with toilet paper and flushed. As he stood to go wash his hands, he found Scott standing just outside the stall.  _ Not what I need right now _ .

“Are you okay?” Scott asked as Stiles scooted past him towards the sinks.

Stiles shrugged and opened his mouth to say something when Scott continued.

“And don’t lie to me, man. Don’t you think I know you better than that?”

Stiles washed his hands and dried them before he dared look his best friend in the eye. Sure, Scott could be pretty thick, but he wasn’t that much of an idiot. He could still read Stiles like a book sometimes. As he turned to face him, he realized now was no exception.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

_ Just hearing one _ , Stiles thought. “Look, I fell asleep and woke up startled, okay? Nothing to worry about, seriously.” He didn’t really know why he attempted the lie, but he could hardly tell Scott the truth. Seriously, how would that go over?  _ Hey, man, ever since the Nogitsune possessed me, I’ve been hearing his voice in my head, but now it’s morphed into my not-so-dead great-grandmother who wants to manipulate me and make me use magic. Oh, and by the way, I can use magic. Apparently, it runs in the family.  _

Yeah, Stiles had a feeling that wouldn’t go over well.

But apparently, neither would the lie. “I’m not that much of an idiot, Stiles. You’ve been off ever since you were kidnapped, and I thought it was just you coping with it, but I’m starting to think there’s more.”

Stiles was about to say something else when his phone buzzed. He looked down to see a text from Peter:  _ Got your pills. In front of the school.  _ He refocused on Scott. “I’m just traumatized, promise. Look, I gotta head to the front office. Forgot to take my pills this morning. We’ll talk later.”

Scott tried to stop him, but Stiles just kept walking. He hated lying to Scott, he really did, but he wasn’t quite ready to tell anyone about the voice in his head. 

Not anyone. 


End file.
